Remnants
by NovemberMurray
Summary: On opposite sides of the fighting, Rex in the service of the Emperor charged with protecting a lost child and Ahsoka on the run from the Sith fighting to save the only family she has left, they struggle to find their places in the changing galaxy. Post Order66 AU Sequel to Only Words and The Expelled. RexSoka. ObiTine. AnakinPadme. Appearances of the Kyrimorut Aliit.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: Because you asked for it! Here is the continuation of my Star Wars: Clone Wars AU (which begins with Lawless which you can find on my author's page). This story picks up right at the end of Only Words and The Expelled. I had an ending written for my Clone Wars AU that was NOT this. Then I reread it and decided… I'm going to write a different one. So here it is. The story will switch back and forth between Rex and Ahsoka (maybe others).

 **Remnants**

 **Chapter 1: The Stolen Child**

The frown on Ahsoka's face deepened as the rickety ship descended through the Kalevala cloud cover. In the starless and moonless night sky the ship itself was nearly invisible as it skimmed just under the overhanging clouds. Spread before her in green night vision projected onto the viewport mountains rolled, covered in dense shrubs and cut by deep ravines. Balanced on the edge of the largest ravine was the Kryze Mansion. It looked like half of a bridge reaching forward into empty space and cutting off where a large landing pad extended, cantilevered, hundreds of feet over the rushing, white river that carved the valley below. Two familiar shapes rested on the landing platform and they were the cause of Ahsoka's displeasure.

There was a time when the ungainly silhouette of a LAAT/i gunship would have made her cry in relief. They meant fresh supplies, ammunition, back up, evac, safety…

Now they meant death.

Ahsoka pulled on the control column, raising back into the clouds. Blind to the world now but for the sensors, she hovered in the darkness. Ahsoka closed her eyes and leaned back, shoulders tense, bracing herself to reach out into the Force.

It washed over her just as readily as it always had but it was unsettlingly quiet and resonated with a grief that took her breath away. Pain followed, intermingled with the grief. Ahsoka took a deep breath and held it as she focused in on the pain, looking desperately in the ever shifting currents of the Force for the man who had once been her master. She felt a tug on her stomach, like gravity pulling her laterally and let it guide her hands on the controls. The ship veered east, away from the mansion, deeper into the mountains.

Anakin's impression in the Force was more turbulent than Ahsoka had ever remembered it. He felt like himself, a deep well of compassion leveled by a staunch determination, but there were new peeks of fear and anger in him as well as deep troughs of love and sadness. All of this was writhing beneath pure physical pain. Even as Ahsoka dropped out of the clouds, descending toward the source of the pull, she could feel him fading, slipping away into oblivion. It shook her to feel Anakin so close to death.

She no longer needed the Force to find him. His path was marked out in a long blackened streak of destruction in the bush and a gouge in the earth. His starcruiser was canted onto it's side, one wing buried in the ground. A figure moved on top of the crashed vehicle, clutching something in their arms. The figure was too slim and feminine to be Anakin but Ahsoka didn't recognize her until she was closer. The figure looked up, blond hair flapping into her face with the wind, as the rickety ship set down a few meters away.

Ahsoka hurried with the hatch and reached the crash in one Force-assisted leap.

"Satine!" she gasped, seeing the former Mandalore Duchess cradling a bundle of blankets to her chest. Satine looked as unrefined as she ever could, her hair wind tossed and tangled falling around her face which was red and tear streaked. Her dress was ripped and muddied. Her arms shook around the bundle and she looked at Ahsoka with abject relief. Her feelings in the Force were as wild as her appearance.

"Ahsoka! Please, Anakin… he's…" Satine looked helplessly toward the cockpit.

The Jedi was unconscious in the open cockpit and everything inside was tainted red with blood. His head was tilted back, eyes closed, and his face was stark white in the pale, bluish moonlight filtering through the clouds. His hair was dark and matted with sweat. His robes were equally soaked and bloodied. The smell of burning flesh and hair wafted over Ahsoka in the gentle wind tinged with the metallic tang of blood.

"Here, help me get him out," Ahsoka said. Satine hesitated and glanced down at the bundle protectively. Ahsoka looked closer at it and saw pink flesh peaking out. A small wrinkled and scrunched face was nestled between the folds in the Duchess's arms. "Oh," she said softly and swallowed. That complicated things.

Ahsoka tried not to think about the little child being Anakin's or Padme's, much less both of theirs. It was still too strange. She bent down by the cockpit to drag Anakin out to find the injury that was bleeding, but she didn't have far to look. Where his right leg should have been was a severed, burnt and bleeding stump tied off with a ripped cloth.

Ahsoka had seen dismemberment's before in the army. With heavy fire and munitions it wasn't uncommon but seeing her master, the seemingly invincible Anakin Skywalker, disfigured like that nearly made her sick. She froze when she saw it and just crouched there, hands shaking, staring at the carnage, unable to look away. Her stomach tried to heave but there was nothing in it. She'd already thrown up an hour or so ago, on Shili, with… Ahsoka cut off that thought before it could fully form and swallowed the bile rising in her mouth.

With shaking hands she pulled the unconscious Jedi out of the seat and onto the flat wing of the craft. His missing leg left a long wet streak of blood on the paint. Satine moaned and gave a short sob behind Ahsoka.

"I need to do a Jedi healing. I… I'm not very good at them but…" Ahsoka's voice trailed off. _There's nothing else I can do_ , she thought and settled cross legged on the speeder. Her heart was pounding and her blood racing. "Will you be alright?" She asked Satine.

"Y-yes, we'll be ok," she said looking down at the child in her arms. "But Padme's still in the mansion with those troops."

"Is she injured?"

"N-not that I know of just…"

"Anakin needs me more," Ahsoka said bluntly. It wasn't cruelty but logic. She was back in the Commander mind set. She couldn't worry about anything other than what she could do in _that_ moment. "That ship has motion scanners. Go turn them on and watch for anyone approaching."

"What do I do if they come?"

"I don't think they will, but just shake me. I have to go into a trance to do this."

"How do you know they won't come?" Satine asked, carefully climbing off the speeder with the child in her arms.

"Because they know we'll come to them eventually." Ahsoka said, half to herself. She took a deep preparatory breath and slowly let herself fade back into the Force. She dimly heard Satine stumbling through the bush toward the parked ship. Vaguely she thought she should have warned Satine all the controls were labeled in Togruti.

It was hard to stay focused on the healing with the emotions in the very unfamiliar Force. Ahsoka tried to push away her memories of the terrible moment in Bituin when the Force itself cried out at the deaths rippling through it. It was hard to focus on the mutilated body of her master without feeling the nausea welling up again, making her dizzy. It was hard not to wonder what was going to happen now that the galaxy was so irreversible changed. What would it become? The uncertainty weighed on Ahsoka as she urged the Force to heal her broken mentor.

Anakin never stirred, but the flow of blood from his wound slowed and stopped. His tense expression eased a little, and his erratic breathing evened out becoming deeper, less labored. Ahsoka surfaced out of her trance when she knew there was nothing more she could do without real medical supplies to see light hinting at the horizon, promising day was only hours off. She knew in the day, without cover, they couldn't stay out in the open as they were. She would have to move Anakin and Satine… and the child. And there was still Padme.

She felt in the force that Padme was alive and still on Kalevala, but there was no guarantee she would stay there. The best chance of rescue was under the cover of darkness. That gave Ahsoka just three hours until sunrise. The longer she waited the harder it would be, and she was already disadvantaged. She mentally cataloged the situation as she'd been taught. _Assess your assets,_ Rex would tell her, _then the problem. Consider the best uses of what you have then make your plan and execute it._

 _I have my lightsabers._ She thought, _I have Re—two DC-17s. I have a rickety togruta shuttle with night vision, bottom mounted mag clamp, medium sized cargo bay, hyperspace drive and basic forward laser cannon. I have a Jedi starcruiser, crashed but probably runs, one injured, one non-combatant, and one newborn baby._

 _I need to keep Satine, the baby and Anakin safe while I rescue Padme. I need to get past a company of troopers and rescue a woman who's just given birth and probably can't walk. And I need to get away clean._

 _This is just the kind of challenge you'd enjoy, Master._ She thought and took Anakin's bloody hand in her own. She turned to look over her shoulder toward the faint halo of light coming from the Kryze Mansion on the dark horizon. A plan was slowly forming in her mind, one that filled her with dread.

.

Ahsoka could sense Padme in the Mansion like a beacon. She was a silent scream in the Force crying out helplessly in pain. Ahsoka picked her way toward the presence she knew across the curved rooftop of the mansion, skirting around skylights and watching the troopers patrolling the halls below her. Unconciously she started counting them, picking them out in the Force. The red markings labeled them as members of the Coruscant Senate Guard. She wondered if any of them disagreed with using a Senator they previously protected as bait to catch a Jedi they previously followed. She would never know. They would all be dead soon. That knowledge weighed on her and so she kept counting the white armored figures that passed by underneath her.

Ahsoka found Padme in a room in the far north hallway lying on a bed of rumpled and stained sheets. She could see from the skylight that the Senator was soaked in sweat and pale as Anakin had been. Her face was turned into a pillow and her thin shoulders shook with sobs. Around the room a squad of clones stood ready. They were expecting Anakin, an angry and injured Anakin.

They weren't expecting the floor to give a great shudder beneath them like an earthquake. Padme tried to sit up as the soldiers stumbled.

A sharp, deep, booming explosion echoed through the ravine coming up from underneath the flooring of the mansion. Ahsoka took her chance and reached out in the Force, pressing in on every window and skylight in the room. They all shattered with a high pitched clinking of glass. The troopers cried out and stumbled around. The floor heaved and then tilted sharply. Ahsoka allowed herself a small triumphant smile.

Anakin's starcruiser had done it's job. She'd left it propped at the bottom of the ravine, nose pointed up toward the underbelly of the mansion and it's sweeping supports that were now crumbling and giving way after being rammed by the pre-programed craft.

Ahsoka reached for her lightsabers but at the last moment hesitated and lifted Rex's DC-17s from her belt instead. It seemed wrong to kill clones with a Jedi weapon even now. She threw all those thoughts aside and jumped into the crumbling mansion.

"Who the—"

"Intruder!"

"What's going on?"

"Shoot the togruta!"

"Where—AHH!" Before the clones could get their feet under them or lift their weapons on her Ahsoka opened fire. She aimed for the neck and armpits, the weakest points of their armor. The high powered custom blasters jarred her wrists with the recoil over and over while the muzzle flashed bright blue, like the hottest part of a flame. One, Two, Three, Four clones fell with screams or cries of pain. A blast shot over Ahsoka's head, missing her montrals by so little she could feel the heat of the plasma. She dodged the next two shots with a jump and roll but no sooner did she have her feet underneath her than the Mansion and the floor gave threatening shudder and pitched suddenly further out into the ravine.

Ahsoka waved her arms to get balance and stumbled. She recovered faster than the clones though.

 _Bang, Bang!_ Two more clones fell almost silently. Ahsoka ran to Padme on the bed. She was looking at the little, togruta Padewan in shock and horror.

"A-ahsoka…?" The senator's voice was rough and trembled. The floor pitched again, dropping nearly a meter beneath them. Ahsoka stumbled into the bed.

"We have to go, _now!_ " Ahsoka gathered Padme in her arms, lifting the senator's frail, shivering body.

"My son," Padme cried, "I can't leave without my son!"

"The baby is with Satine!" Ahsoka cried and ran for the hallway door, which was now at a dangerous angle to the room as the floor cracked and pulled away from it. Ahsoka made a mad dash down the hall for the nearest balcony.

Three troopers were stumbling in the hallway and looked up as she passed.

"The senator!" one cried out.

"Stop!" The second yelled but it was the third who sealed all of their fates. He was quick enough to pull up his blaster and take aim. Ahsoka jumped and spun in mid air. In the weightless zero gravity of free fall she threw out her hand toward the clones. The Force dragged them screaming back down the sloping hallway toward the ravine swallowing up the building. Ahsoka and Padme rolled when they hit the ground. Padme to her credit didn't even cry out. She just moaned as Ahsoka shook herself.

The hall floor lurched under them, and the entire structure groaned and shuddered. A rending sound of tearing metal and cracking duracrete came from behind them. Ahsoka jumped into action, grabbing Padme back into her arms and sprinting for the gaping balcony doors.

"Hold on!" he yelled to Padme just as they passed the opening of another hallway and the mass of staggering white plastoid armored bodies there. Blaster bolts filled the air around them as Ahsoka sprinted across the sharply angled platform and vaulted off the railing. The cracking sound of duracrete split the air and the platform gave way, dropping off the side of the house with the clones on it.

Troopers' screams echoed up the rock walls of the ravine as Ahsoka and Padme plummeted into the dusty smoke blowing up the canyon. Behind them the house crashed and groaned before giving a colossal grinding sound as it dragged free it's moorings and fell.

Ahsoka's heart pounded in her ears for the seconds of terrifying free fall before a ledge looped like a dark shadow in the smoky air before her, speeding up toward her feet.

 _Trust the Force,_ she reminded herself moments before she touched down and felt all the killing energy of the drop bleeding away from her, dissipating into the Force like water trickling through a sieve.

"Oh…" Padme gasped and slowly released the bruising grip she had on Ahsoka's shoulders.

Behind them Ahsoka heard the familiar _whamp, whamp_ of one LAAT/i gunship. She assumed the other had gone down the with mansion. She looked up into the smoky air that hung in the gorge, down wind of the destruction she'd caused. They wouldn't find her, at least not until the sun came up.

"Oh no," Padme moaned, "no, no, no, no, no…" she sobbed in Ahsoka's arms, her whole body trembling, and the force of her grief nearly brought the little former Jedi Padewan to her knees. "My son, my little Luke… my son…" Padme sobbed into Ahsoka's shoulder.

"Padme, the baby is with Satine," Ahsoka tried to tell the grieving mother. "He's fine. I'll take you to him, ok?" But nothing reached Padme.

Ahsoka fumbled for her comm.

"Satine," she said into it.

 _"_ _I'm here. Are you alright? Did you find Padme? I heard a crash."_

 _"_ I'm fine and I have Padme. Bring the ship down the ravine, stay as close to bottom as possible. The smoke will cover you. Padme and I are on a ledge three hundred meters up. I'm sending the coordinates, R2 can direct you to them. Can you do that?"

"Yes. I—I'll try. But Ahsoka, what then?"

"I don't know. But I think I know someone who can help us."

.

Rex stood at attention by the doorway on the raised landing, half a meter above the floor of the high-rise suite. The apartment was as fancy as any senator's accommodations. The wide open room looked out on a magnificent view of upper Coruscant's artificial skyline of jagged buildings shrouded in smog. To Rex it was all familiar but no longer comforting. Coruscant used to mean rest and relaxation. It used to mean a few days where he went to bed and didn't have to worry who might not be there at breakfast. It meant no surprise attacks. No thumping of cannons or pounding of boots to wake him in the night. Just nightmares.

Now it was all a nightmare.

Below him a nurse rocked a small child as she fed him. She was utterly silent, hardly paying attention to the child in her arms. The entire apartment was just as quiet and still. It was nothing like Jaina's apartment, which was just a few sectors away. There was no warm smell of the togruti spices Jaina's jovial personal chef used, the near constant rustle of flimsy and shifting of data pads, or guards sharing quiet jokes as they stood guard or relaxed in their quarters. This apartment was silent as the dead.

Even the child was quiet.

It unsettled Rex. Babies were supposed to cry, weren't they? They were supposed to be demanding, or happy, or screaming, or sleeping. This child slept fitfully and woke up silently with little gasps. He stared with wide eyes silently at everything. He ate when fed, at regular timed intervals. He slept when laid in his crib. But he was silent.

The door behind Rex gave a soft beep as the hall motion detectors went off. Rex glanced down at the security console beside him and the camera feeds. A clone in white armor strode down the hall purposefully to the apartment door and pressed the buzzer.

"This is a secure area," Rex said over the com. The trooper didn't even twitch.

 _"_ _IT-3011 reporting as assigned, sir."_ The voice was familiar.

"Enter your security code," Rex said and pressed a button on the console. A panel opened outside to display a port and keypad. The trooper input his data stick and the key code. The door opened a second later. The trooper entered and snapped to attention in front of Rex.

"IT-3011, Sergeant Coric, reporting for duty, sir."

"Acknowledged," Rex replied in his professional tone but his voice changed as he kept speaking, " _Su'cuy, ner vod_. _Me'vaar ti gar?_ "

"Captain?"

"Been a while," Rex said with a nod. He couldn't see Coric's face but he could hear the joyful disbelief in his voice.

"You're back? How? The surgery?"

"No surgery just hard work. Still don't pass the physical but someone doesn't seem to care."

"Is the Empire that desperate for clones?" Coric asked as he took up a mirror of Rex's parade rest stance on the other side of the door. To the nurses tending to Luke in the apartment below they were silent and emotionless white, armored statues. Inside their buckets they could talk as they pleased.

"Something like that," Rex told his old medic, evading the question. "What about you? How did you end up here?"

"Distinguished service during the execution of Order 66." Coric said it in his best mindless-meat-can voice. It was the kind of response that would make a Kaminoan almost giggle with pride. It made Rex suspicious, but he had his own secrets. He decided to leave his old Sergeant his.

"Welcome to the most boring assignment this side of flash training."

"I could use the R&R."

"Respectfully, _vod,_ I wouldn't mind if an army of tinnies landed on that balcony."

"I know what you mean," Coric replied, sounding tired. It wasn't about the droids or having something to vent repressed anger on. It was about life being simple again. There had been a time when they just shot the bad droids and followed the General. Then somewhere along the way the war got complicated, somewhere on Christophsis.

"Who's the kid?" Coric asked after a pregnant pause. Apparently his briefing had been even sparser than Rex's.

"The Emperor's son," Rex replied, deadpan. He almost expected Coric to laugh.

"Doubtful," the medic replied with a frown in his voice, not even a hint of his old humor. Rex furrowed his brow behind his visor and remained silent.

"Any idea who he really is?"

"No," Rex lied and he knew it was clear in his voice. _Vode_ couldn't lie to each other. _How could I not know?_ Rex thought. He was confronted with the truth every time the silent child stared him down with those wide blue eyes, so much like those of the man he used to know. Even thinking of the General now brought up the same sickening feeling that memories of Umbara did. He repressed a shudder.

 _"_ _Tayli gar ranov'lase, vod,_ " Coric replied. _Keep your secrets._ "What have you been doing since you left the GAR?"

"Since I was decommissioned?"

"The General said you were working in Coruscant for a while, but then even he lost track of you."

"I got hired by a senator."

"One I know?"

"Probably not. Shili's not very important in terms of Galactic politics."

"This have anything to do with Comm—with Ahsoka Tano?"

Hearing her name was like twisting a knife in Rex's gut and he could hardly breath to speak past the sudden pain. Coric heard the silence and made his own assumptions.

 _"_ _Ni ceta, Rex, kaysh ru'cuyi gar cyare,"_ the medic apologized as fervently as any Mando could.

"She's not dead." The surety of his own voice surprised Rex. It was more than conviction. It was a desperate need. He needed to believe she was alive for some unidentifiable reason. He wasn't sure what he would be in a world without her. Or maybe he just wanted another shot at her. He wasn't sure.

"I see." Coric reverted back to his meat-can voice, bland and blank, emotionless, droid-like.

 _What's wrong with us?_ Rex wanted to scream. _What's wrong with you? Ahsoka was nearly as important to you as she was to me? Or at least I thought she was. You called her_ ge'vod, _almost sister. What happened to that? What happened to me?_ But the com was just tensely silent, like the strange apartment and the strange child.

"What was it like?" Coric asked suddenly.

"What?"

"Being normal, having a job outside of… this?"

"It was…" Rex debated how to explain, glad for the change of topic. How did he sum up the progressively wilder meals that Jaina's wide-hipped cook would make for him just to laugh at the legendary appetite of clones? How did he sum up the kind words of encouragement that Jaina saved for the cloudy humid days when his whole body ached and the acid burns stung at the slightest movement? How did he describe walking down the Coruscant street and not feeling like he was an intruder… feeling like he belonged there? For the first time in Rex's life he had truly been more than a number. He could make his own choices, go where he pleased, say what he wanted, and maybe love who he loved. He could hardly remember who he had been just a day ago walking down the warmly lit streets of Shili-Kai with _her_. No, there weren't words to explain that to his brother, not yet.

"It wasn't that different." He said simply.

"Glad to be back?"

"I missed the simple life," Rex replied. It was a half truth and they both knew it.

"Protect the drooling infant. Sounds simple enough to me."

.

The first word out of Anakin's mouth when he woke up on the Polis Massa medical station was "Padme."

"Anakin!" Her beautiful voice called back to him from his side, and a hand squeezed his. He forced his heavy eyelids back with effort, blinking away bleariness to see her face leaning over him. Her eyes were red and rimmed with dark circles but her smile and relief were real. She was beautifully, wonderfully alive.

"Angel," he breathed and reached for her with one heavy, clumsy arm. "You're alive. You're here."

"Yes, Ani…I—I'm here." She reached out and took his hand, bringing it up to press against her cheek as the tears spilled out of her eyes. They didn't make sense in the context of her smile.

"What's wrong?" He asked, his tongue taking more effort to work than normal. "Are you hurt? The baby!"

"No, Ani, no," she was shaking her head against his palm and turned to press a kiss to the sensitive skin. "I'm not hurt…not physically. You—Ani, you nearly died."

"I'm alright." He said but realized that he wasn't really sure if that was true. The sluggishness and fog in his mind was the all too familiar sensation of pain killers coursing through his veins. But there were others more important than him. "The baby?" He asked Padme.

Her expression broke into remorse and heartbreak before his eyes. He felt a sinking dread in his stomach. As if in answer to their feelings the child in the crib behind Padme gave a bubbling cry. Padme turned quickly, dropping her husbands hand and lifting the child. Anakin just stared in confusion as his wife cradled the bundle of blankets.

"A-anakin, this is Leia," she said in a horse whisper, "your daughter." Anakin just stared at the little wrinkled red face between the folds. He marveled at how small she was. Leia scrunched her face and wriggled against the blankets, yawning. Her brown eyes opened and looked right at Anakin. He felt like she was seeing right through him with Padme's eyes.

"She's alright?" He asked anxiously.

"She-she's perfect," Padme said nodding, but her eyes were still brimming with tears..

"What's wrong, Angel?"

"I—I had twins."

"Twins? But..."

"Th-they took him away." Her voice trembled and she looked down at the floor shamefully. "They took our son away. Palpatine was there. He said you had betrayed him and…and he was taking Luke in your place. I couldn't stop them. I couldn't do anything. They would have taken Leia too but I gave her to Satine just before they arrived and I told her to run. I didn't know what else to do."

"Angel, you did everything you could and we are going to get Luke back. I promise."

"How can you say that? You don't know where he is?"

"I'll find him."

"Palpatine won't let you. He's declared himself Emperor. He's killed off all the Jedi, burned the Temple, practically hand-cuffed the Senate… there's nothing we can do to him."

"You got away!"

"Only because of Ahsoka. She saved us, all of us," Padme looked meaningfully down at Leia.

"Ahsoka? She's here? Is she alright?"

"Yes. She's… I think something happened on Shili. She needs you. I need you. Leia need you. Anakin. Please, just… just…"

"I will not let him take away my son!" He said every word deliberately, each ringing with stubborn assertion.

The door to the small room opened as Anakin was speaking to admit the small Togruta in her dusty and mud stained robes.

"Anakin, please," Padme whispered, "I—I don't want to lose you too."

"You're not going to lose me," he whispered and reached out for her hand again. "We'll all be together one day, all of us."

"You're in no condition to go anywhere," Ahsoka said tensely. She came in but hovered by the door. "Rest. We can find Luke when you're back on your feet."

Seeing her again made Anakin long for the old days, when their relationship had been simple. It also made him realize how unatainable those days were now. Ahsoka had changed in more than just physical ways. Her entire posture and disposition was different. There was a world wearyness about her shoulders that he didn't recognize.

"You sticking around this time, Snips?" He asked her, forcing an imitation of his old cocky smile. It felt awkward on his face, un-befitting of the father and Jedi Knight that he'd become since losing her.

"For a while." She was deadpan. Anakin looked her over, noting the baccta patch under her lekku and the tired expression on her face.

"How did you know where to find Padme and I?" He asked.

"Obi-Wan contacted me on his way back to the Temple to disable the beacon."

"Is he back yet?"

"We haven't heard from him," Ahsoka said looking down and scuffing her feet on the floor. Her hands lifted for a moment toward her lightsabers, strapped where they always had been to her belt, then she dropped them. "The Empire knew he where he was going, so we have to assume he was captured in the temple."

"How did they know it would be him? It could have been any Jedi."

"One of the clones knew his plan."

"What? Who told a clone?" Anakin growled.

"It was Rex. He betrayed us." She said softly and turned away. Anakin saw the familiar pair of DC-17 handguns clipped to the back of her belt as she left with tense shoulders. Anakin was stunned into silence to see them without their owner. He desperately tried to reconcile what he knew about Rex with what Ahsoka had told him. The man that he knew just didn't seem capable of that kind of betrayal but the evidence was undeniable; Rex would never hand over his weapons unless he was dying or dead.

"Captain Rex?" Padme asked in disbelief. She could remember awarding those very weapons to the Captain and sole clone survivor of Vindi's Laboratory. "How could he? How did this happen?"

"I don't know. I really… don't know." Anakin just gripped her hand tighter.

The world was spinning out of control all around him. Friends he had once trusted now betrayed him. Mentors he had once idolized attacked a leader he had once praised. Obi-Wan who had always stood by him was lost. Anakin thought back to the day he'd seen his old master off for Utapau and how they had joked only days before about taking on the Council and the Chancellor together, just the two of them. It hadn't seemed like such a daunting prospect then. Now, without Obi-Wan, Anakin thought the Chancellor and the newly made Empire looked daunting and indomitable. But he still had her, the one thing in life he always clung to, he had Padme. He watched his wife cradling their daughter and murmuring softly to her. It was what he always wanted, not having to hide his love or his wife, wasn't it? But at what cost?

Anakin let his heavy eyelids droop again, and reached out into the Force. He reached out for his old master into the gray shadows that shrouded Coruscant. He looked blindly for his son in the shifting currents of loss and pain. Beside him Padme was a beacon of bright joy and simultaneous crushing sadness, Leia was content and peaceful though she knew something was wrong, and Ahsoka was closed off, hard and cold to him in the Force.

Anakin opened his eyes again long enough to tug Padme down beside him on the medical cot. She nestled the sleeping child between them and curled toward her husband. Anakin listened to her gentle breathing and drifted back into the drug induced hazy sleep.

* * *

Author's Note: So some Mando'a in this chapter. There's likely to be more. If you're an expert or something I'd love to talk. Languages are fun :) (I'm just very bad at remembering vocabulary. Yay for Excel. I never thought I'd say that *insert horrified expression*.) I think the only thing I didn't translate (that wasn't "hello, how are you?" was Coric's apology. He said " _Ni ceta, Rex, kaysh ru'cuyi gar cyare." Ni ceta_ is a very serious apology like for when you bring up your buddy's dead girlfriend the day after she died, Mandalorians would rarely use it, if ever. _Kaysh ry'cuyi gar cyare -_ she was your beloved. _Cyar-ika_ is a term of endearment you might have seen in other RexSoka stories. It's the diminutive form of _Cyare_. The term isn't just reserved for lovers, it can be family members, pets, etc. It can just mean a loved one (considering that Mandalorians set very loose boundaries for family may apply to lots of people.) Well I hope you enjoyed and you'll stick around for the other chapters. Leave me a review if you have a moment... or not... that's ok too. -Ember


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: OK so some new characters that are NOT MINE are going to show up in this chapter. They come from Karen Traviss's Republic Commando Series. I don't think it's necessary to read those stories to understand this one. I'll do my best to explain who the characters are. You'll get to meet them along with Rex. There's also a Rex tie-in story on my Author page about how he got the Jaig Eyes if you're interested, it's called A Given Soul.

I'm starting to think the amount of pain and hardship I put a character through is directly proportional to how much I like that character. If that's the case than Rex is my favorite!

Hope you enjoy and leave me a review or a cookie or some moldy leftovers… whatever's lying around I guess. –Ember

* * *

 **Chapter 2: A New Home**

.

Within a week Rex had a squad of six troopers under his command including Coric. Two of the new arrivals were former Commandos, troopers specially trained in small four man cells by mercenaries Jango Fett brought to Kamino before the Clone Wars. There were always rumors about the _Cuy'val Dar_ , the motley assortment of mercenary sergeants almost entirely made up of Mandalorians, who trained the Commandos. Most of the Mandalorian traditions the clones knew came from the Cuy'val Dar filtering down through the ranks. Rex had learned from Alpha 17, who was taught by Jango himself. These clones were taught by another hard-ass Mando and the differences showed. The Commando's talked differently. They held themselves differently. They complained about the newer, thinner armor near constantly and jumped at every sound as if they were still on covert-ops in enemy territory. They didn't mix with the other troopers well, sneering and talking in Mando'a between themselves. Rex let them believe for all of a day that he didn't understand every word. A quick biting retort in their own language sobered them up a little. Still they were a terrifying pair of hair-trigger psychos if Rex had ever seen one. The quiet, sedate assignment didn't suit them.

"Sergeant Vau didn't sweat teaching us manners," Kaden had said when Rex called him out on his rude, restless behavior.

"He was too busy teaching us how to keep our limbs attached to our bodies," Sur'atiin finished his brother's thought without missing a beat. Apparently training in small, insulated groups meant even less chance for individuality. The two commandos seemed to be telepathically linked, their minds running the same thoughts. Rex generally gave up on trying to control their bad attitude and settled for keeping them in-line on the job. They were vigilant guards, he had to give them that.

One trooper in Rex's squad was transferred from the 41st Elite Corps, a laconic _vod_ called Walli. At first he seemed almost as problematic as the commandos. He didn't say more than three words in his first week; "Yes, sir" or "No, sir." Rex commed his old friend Gree who gave the quiet trooper a good recommendation.

"He's not quiet. He's listening, and he's thinking. That man thinks more than is good for anyone, but in a tough spot he'll find the way out no one else will. Damn good slicer too," Gree said. "Take care of him, Rex."

"Will do, _ner vod_." Rex replied and glanced over at Walli who was wearing his bucket, lying in bed. "He's damn weird though."

"You get used to it. I got used to you," Gree replied. "K'oyacyi. It's good to have you back."

"Yeah, you too." Rex replied and ended the com. He was getting up to find Coric and beg a painkiller off him when Walli cut into Rex's helmet com.

"We're all dead men," the trooper said softly.

"Yeah, we have been since the moment we were decanted, _Wal-ika_. Get used to it."

"I mean us, the six of us and you. No one leaves this unit."

"Why do you think that?" Rex asked.

"They won't risk the secret getting out."

"What secret?" Rex asked suspicious now.

"The one you know but won't tell Coric, something about the child."

Rex turned silently to look at the trooper on the bed who hadn't moved. He would have to be more careful around Walli from now on. The man was smart and he did listen. Rex wouldn't put it past him to have eavesdropped on his call with Gree. Rex was more careful what he said in range of his bucket after that.

The last two clones were Shock Troopers, Lieutenant Ven and Lieutenant-former Commander- Fox. Ven seemed like a capable trooper who had a good sense of humor and a friendly disposition. Between the insular commandos, Corics new found solemnity, Walli's deliberate silence and Rex's own lingering ghosts a light hearted voice was welcome. Ven had seen his share of the war unlike most Shock Troopers who'd never been off Coruscant. Ven knew Rex's reputation and trusted his new Captain easily. Fox was a different story.

It was hard not to think about Fives whenever Rex saw the former Commander. He'd never warmed up to Fox to begin with. Now, for the first time in his artificially short life, he wanted to abuse his rank over the arrogant Shock Trooper.

"What did you frak up to get demoted here?" Rex asked when Fox reported for duty the day after Coric arrived.

"Respectfully, _sir_ , you can shove it! Read my file if you have the clearance otherwise mind your own _karkin_ business." Fox replied evenly.

"Fine, _vod,"_ Rex forced himself to say the words kindly and dropped the issue. Curiosity had never won him any rewards in the past.

The seven of them lived in the small guard quarters off the side of the apartment. Rex had an office to himself that he rarely used. Two men were on guard at all times watching over Luke and the nurse on staff. The nurses lived in their own rooms off the main bedroom and like the guards worked in rotating shifts. They cared for the child with professional detachment and apathy.

The staff also turned over quickly. After Luke suffered from a normal cold the entire nursing staff was replaced. The replacements were more jumpy and paranoid about the child's well being, with a motivation that worried Rex. They had a kind of mortal fear in their eyes and a reverent attention when they dealt with Luke. The silent child squirmed in their arms and really cried for the first time in their care.

When Nia arrived Luke was six months old, the child had barely learned to sit up on his own. A squad of Shock Troopers brought her right to the doorway. She walked in between the four armored bodies, looking small among their bulk. Her stringy brown hair was pulled back severely to the nape of her neck and her green eyes were wide and watery, looking around with half terrified bemusement.

"This is Nia Kahn," the trooper in charge told Rex. "She's the boy's mother."

"Then she's my responsibility now as well?" Rex asked as he accepted the data pad with his new orders.

"No. Your priority is the child and only the child." Rex was corrected, and without another word the Shock Troopers departed, leaving the thin woman standing vacantly on the landing. Rex looked over the false mother. She was young, only 25 at the most, but her body was curved like a mothers. He wouldn't have been surprised if she did have a child, but that child wasn't Luke.

"May I see him?" she asked Rex in a whispery voice.

"He's asleep now, Ma'am."

"Yes, alright." She replied and almost dreamily descended the stairs. She stood at the window for the hour after arriving without moving. Walli walked past her on one of his daily scans for bugs and cameras. Nia turned when he passed. Shining tear streaks caught the light on her face.

"Are you alright?" Walli asked her.

"Yes, why do you ask, trooper?" She said, cocking her head to the side.

"You're crying."

"Oh," she reached up to feel her cheek. "So I am." Nia turned back to the window, unaffected and resumed her strange silent vigil. Rex repressed a shudder. It felt like the quiet was eating at his mind, slowly driving him crazy. Maybe he'd get as bad as Fives and start spouting off conspiracies. If it came to that he'd damn well shoot himself. He wasn't about to give Fox the satisfaction.

But that would leave Luke all alone.

All of the hate that Rex felt for the Jedi didn't cross over to Luke. Maybe Rex would shoot his old General given the chance, but Anakin had still pulled his _shebs_ out of more tight spots and certain death situations than he could count. Anakin had been the only thing between Rex and some Kaminoan's needle. That had to mean something.

And Padme. Rex could still remember the genuine remorse and grief in her voice as she mourned his brothers in the contaminated Naboo Laboratory. No one had ever mourned his family with him. It was something only _vode_ did. Jedi didn't mourn even if they cared about the clones that served them and died for them. Padme Amidala genuinely cared. She deserved every protection he could give, and if he couldn't protect her he would protect her son.

So Rex kept his back straight and guarded the door to his own personal piece of hell on Coruscant.

.

It wasn't much to look at when they arrived.

The Alderan farmhouse was falling down. The first floor was in decent condition, water damaged on the west side where the upper story was collapsing. The kitchen at least was in tact even if every appliance was broken and required new parts. The old style masonry was of poor quality and needed patching in so many places it would almost have been faster to rebuild the whole place, almost.

The trapdoor into the basement had rotted out as had the stairs that led down into the natural caves underneath the house, carved out a hundred years or more before when water had run through them and out into the 20 foot ravine just two meters shy of the house's west side. There was a wide opening to the caves there, big enough for a ship once it was cleaned of debris, but it would take long hard hours of work to do.

The gardens were over run, their boarders hardly distinguishable. The two terraced fields, irrigated by the natural spring up hill from the house were in decent shape, even if they were useless at the moment, it was mid season and they were still bare.

There was a little shed that had collapsed and become a breeding ground for mushrooms. An old droid was imitating a planter full of weeds at the back door. Pipes had burst. Electrics had to be re run. One of the trees in the back yard had fallen in a recent storm.

Anakin was still unsteady on his prosthetic leg, Satine led the reigns of their single Grazer who pulled the hover cart carrying Padme, Leia and their few gathered possessions. Ahsoka walked behind them, eyes scanning the trees warily, twitching and impatient.

Anakin was frowning when his wife walked up beside him. She slipped her hand into his and surveyed their new home.

"I like it," She said with her usual infectious optimism. "It reminds me of Varykino."

He looked at her incredulously.

"It needs some work but…there's potential here. It is a little smaller though."

"A little?" He asked.

"Yes," she said smiling, "that's what we'll call it. Varykino Minor."

Anakin looked half ready to argue but just shook his head instead.

"Alright, Angel. It's your house. You can call it what you want."

She smiled up at him warmly. "It's our house," she corrected.

.

In the first week at Varikino Minor Ahsoka threw herself into the hard labor that was needed. The work was endless, from hauling supplies to reconfiguring wiring. It was all exhausting. Anakin was insistent on doing everything he could, hobbling around with increasing proficiency every day and hiding his grimaces of pain. Ahsoka didn't dare say anything about it. She knew he needed the distraction of physical work as much as she did. It was harder for their thoughts to stray to what they had lost and what they still didn't know when their hands were busy. So Ahsoka and Anakin worked tirelessly. At night Anakin curled up beside his wife in the tents that they were living in until the house was habitable again. Padme always tried to talk to him but the effort was wasted. Ahsoka would sleep in the tent beside theirs and listen to Padme's smothered sobs in the early evening and Anakin's nightmares through the early hours of morning.

Satine was quiet in the first week. She cooked, cleaned what she could, and began clearing the gardens. Outwardly she was composed but Ahsoka would catch her frozen in mid motion at times, just staring into space, her thoughts light-years away. The former Jedi wanted to say something in those moments like "He'll be ok" or "Don't worry" but those would have been lies so she remained silent. Obi-Wan's absence hung almost as heavily over the farm as Luke's.

Even Leia could not escape the despair that tainted their new pastoral life. She was restless and cried often, reaching out for anyone who was in view. She seemed to need the physical comfort of others around her. Or perhaps it was the other way around and the adults needed the comfort of the child in their arms.

They waited a week for news. It finally came in the late afternoon of the eighth day.

Anakin jumped when his com link went off. He dropped the hammer in his hands and quickly answered. Ahsoka ran lithely across the roof they were repairing to join him, almost trembling with anxiety. The holographic figure of Senator Bail Organa rose up from the little device in Anakin's hand.

"Senator," Anakin answered.

 _"Skywalker. You're looking well."_

"I'm recovering. Do you have news?"

 _"Yes."_ Organa said and bowed his head with a heavy sigh. _"It's not good."_

"Obi-Wan is alive," Anakin said forcefully, "I can sense it."

 _"Yes he is. I've managed to locate him but… you'll never make it to him."_

"Where?" Ahsoka demanded, ignoring the last comment.

 _"Here, in Imperial City. They are holding him in a maximum security prison a kilometer under ground."_

"What? In the lower city?"

 _"Under the lower city."_

"Nothing goes that low."

 _"Exactly. It's a pit trap and Obi-Wan is the bait. Palpatine isn't even trying to disguise that. You may get to him but nothing that goes down there is ever coming back up."_ Organa shook his head in disgust.

"We have to try though!" Anakin insisted.

"That's exactly what he knows you'll say," Ahsoka argued. "He knows you, remember. No mater how crazy a plan you come up with he'll still be expecting _you,_ Mas- Anakin."

"Then what, we leave him there?" He snapped back. "You know what they'll do to him, what they _are_ doing to him."

Ahsoka flinched and shut her eyes against the images of her own nightmares. They were more than just her imagination; she could feel it. Obi-Wan was in pain, wherever he was.

"We don't even know for sure if Obi-Wan is there," Ahsoka stalled. "This might just be one of Palpatine's tricks."

"We have to try!"

"Look at the state you're in."

"I'm a lot better than I was and I'm still the most powerful Jedi the council has ever—had ever seen!"

"Yeah but you're nowhere near recovered. Think about this, Anakin. Think about Padme and Leia." Ahsoka sighed and pulled out the last card she had to play. Over the last week she'd wracked her brain for anything that would keep her handicapped, stubborn-as-nails Master at Varikino when the inevitable call came. "Think about Luke," she whispered, putting a hand on his arm. "If you die or worse, if you're captured saving Obi-Wan who will save Luke? He's still out there and he will need his father."

Anakin gritted his teeth and looked away, down at the crooked shingles they were laying on the roof. His shoulder trembled under the weight of Ahsoka's arguments but it was Luke that broke him down.

"Ok, you're right. But it feels wrong to do nothing."

"I'll go."

"Snipps!" Anakin opened his mouth to protest, his old protectiveness faring up wildly. During the war he'd worried for her and told himself the worry was unfounded. After losing so many Jedi those worries seemed much more valid now. Ahsoka cut him off before he could start though.

"I'll just confirm he's there. I won't make any moves without some kind of support. If I think we have a chance to rescue him I'll call you."

 _"Coruscant is no place for a Jedi,"_ Organa argued.

"Exactly. So no one is looking for Jedi sneaking in." Ahsoka put her hands on her hips with fabricated confidence. In the years of the war Anakin had learned to tell the difference from her genuine self-assurance. He wondered if Organa could.

 _"Maybe, but how do you plan on getting out?"_ the Senator asked, _"I would take you if you could get to my diplomatic shuttle but the senators are all under heavy surveillance. I can't help you here."_

"I'm resourceful and I still have a few friends around," Ahsoka said. Anakin watched her face closely for the telltale signs of her bluff, an extra blink or her smile just a little too wide. He wasn't quite sure if what he felt from her in the Force was just determination and excitement or something else, something darker.

"If anyone can do it, you can, Snips," Anakin said with defeat. "I did train you after all." He seemed to be trying to reassure himself more than her.

"Thanks, Skyguy."

"Just remember you don't have an army backing you up this time."

"I know," she replied darkly.

 _"Be careful, Ahsoka,"_ Organa warned her, _"and good luck."_

"Thank you, Senator, for everything."

"We owe you more than we can repay," Anakin added.

" _After everything the Jedi have done, it was the least I could do. I'll keep my eye out for information on your son and contact you if I hear anything."_

"Thank you."

Organa's transparent blue figure nodded, then wavered once and disappeared. Ahsoka turned away and nimbly picked a path across the half finished roof toward the ladder. Anakin felt the familiar sinking feeling in his stomach he always got when he sent her on a mission alone. Then at least he'd been tasking a couple dozen armed and battled hardened men to protect her. But those same men were the ones who had betrayed her, turned her in to the empire and shot her. There was still an angry red burn on her shoulder where Rex's blaster bolt had hit.

Rex of all the clones, was the hardest betrayal to swallow. The clones had demonstrated they could kill their Jedi officers. Krell and Tiplee proved that. But labels like "clone" and "Jedi" aside, Rex would never harm Ahsoka. Anakin knew that as surely as he knew that he could never hurt Padme. He had watched the relationship between his Captain and Padewan from the beginning, and seen duty transform into care and care into something bordering on devotion. Even Rex had recognized that he had feeling for Ahsoka that he shouldn't. _So, where had that feeling gone?_ Anakin shook off unanswered questions.

"Ahsoka," he called out.

"You can't stop me," she replied without pausing on her way across the roof, "don't even try."

"I wasn't going to. I gave up on that when you made that insane jump into the lower city."

Ahsoka stopped and glanced back for a second at her old Master.

"I know I'm not your Master anymore Ahsoka and I'm not your father. I just…"

"You've lost enough," she finished the sentence for him, not in the way he would have but with a ringing truth to her words.

"We all have."

"I need to do this, Anakin. I need to figure out for myself what's happened to the galaxy and… what I'm supposed to do now."

For a moment Anakin caught the cracks in her façade and he could feel in the Force her turbulent state of mind. She was confused and lost. Everything in the galaxy had become strange and unknown overnight. Everything she had previously relied on was gone. The Order was scattered and destroyed. The Republic was irreversibly changed. The man she thought she could trust tried to kill her and the place she had come to call home was now unsafe for her. Ahsoka had lost more than just a job when Order 66 was declared. She lost her people, again. For the second time in her life she had to leave with nothing but the clothes on her back and the weapons on her belt. She was well and truly lost.

But more than all of that, she was angry. She was angry at the Replublic, at Palpatine and the Sith, at the Jedi Council, at the Clones, at Organa and Jaina and the other Senators, at the Separatists, and at Rex. The bitter feeling of her anger was all the more biting to Anakin because it was familiar. He had felt that anger himself. He felt a stab of fear for his padewan. Even if she wasn't a Jedi and never would be, that kind of anger was destructive. It was blinding and would open her up to be manipulated… just as he was. Only with distance could he see that now. But it didn't give him any insight on how to turn her away from that self-destructive path.

 _Is this how you felt Master?_ Anakin thought. _Did you see your own faults in me? Is that why you were so hard on me about my anger?_

"Just don't do anything reckless," Anakin said as Ahsoka made her way down the ladder. She glanced up over the edge of the roof.

"What? Like you would?" She asked with an echo of her old cocky grin.

"Exactly like I would. May the Force be with you." He bowed to her as if he still had the long Jedi robes and a lightsaber.

"And you, Mas—Anakin." In two steps the tips of her montrals had disappeared under the roofline and she was gone. Anakin sighed. He sat heavily on the shingles and rubbed at the sore band of flesh where his new prosthetic leg met the burned stump. He just hoped that Ahsoka would find her answers and purpose before she was as badly scarred as he was.

.

Rex ate his food slowly while he watched the troopers go about their normal military lives. He didn't envy them. He was only back among them for the night. He'd been given a temporary bunk in the new 501st barracks until 0400 when he would catch a transport back to his sector of the planet city. He had already delivered his report to the Emperor personally and was slowly coming down from the adrenaline high of the unpleasant experience. The Sith was terrifying in a way the Jedi had never been. But that didn't mean the Jedi had any less capacity to commit horrors and treason. They just wore different robes and carried different colored sabers. They were all Force wielding dictators in the end, right?

 _"_ _Gar gana ori'gett'se meh jori meg aliik."_

Rex paused in his meal at the rough voice spitting _mando'a_ at him from behind. He glanced sideways at his helmet on the metal top of the mess tables. In the bright lights the gray stylized upturned "V" shapes were clearly distinguishable. They were the only things that outwardly differentiated his helmet from any other stormtrooper bucket. It irked him that anyone would question his right to wear that honor. He didn't recognize the voice either, which only made the offense worse.

 _"_ _Oy, hut'uun. Jorhaa'i gar."_ The voice called him a coward and demanded his attention. A hard firm hand grabbed his shoulder. That was a mistake. Rex allowed himself a small smirk.

The Captain grabbed the gloved hand on his shoulder and twisted it as he stood, knocking over his chair. He spun out a kick and caught the man behind him on the knee. The other man went down and Rex viciously twisted the hand in his grip, locking the man's elbow and pushing him down by his shoulder.

Rex caught the sold _ca-thunk_ of an extending vibro-blade. He saw the man's legs curling, building power for the jump that would wrench his arm out of Rex's grip. If Rex wasn't quick enough he'd get a vibro-blade in his side right after that jump. Best counter-defense was a harsh offense thought and Rex was fast.

"Check!" A second unknown voice snapped and the man under Rex's grip froze in mid-motion like a paused hollo-vid. Rex slowly lowered the barrel of his DC until it touched the back of the man's bare head, a head just like his.

"You're making a scene, Dar," the second voice went on. Rex glanced sidelong at the newcomer. Like the man crouching on the floor under the blaster, he was a clone, just like Rex, but he spoke differently, held himself differently and his armor was bulkier. Commandos, Rex concluded. They were similar to the ones in his squad.

"Let me go, _shabuir,"_ the one called Dar growled. The vibro-blade made a _his-shunk_ sound as it retracted but the words seethed with anger. The kind of unbridled anger that Rex had seen tear soldiers apart from the inside. He felt a stab of pity.

"That's Captain," he spat back with a little less than his usual biting authoritative tone.

"I don't give _osik_ what you're rank is, _aruetii_." Dar called him a traitor, a foreigner and soulless in the eyes of Mandalorians.

 _"_ _Oyacyi de Resol'nare,"_ Rex snapped back that he lived by the Mandalorian way. Part of him felt the words were a lie though. In _Resol'nare_ family was sacred. At one time _she_ had been family and he'd betrayed her so could he still call himself Mandalorian, _mando'ad,_ if he'd failed to protect her… much less been the cause of her suffering.

Rex released Dar's hand and stepped back, holstering his blaster as a sign of good faith. The Commando leapt up like a tightly wound spring and his fist snapped out. Rex ducked it easily and stepped into the man's reach, slamming his shoulder into Dar's chest and sending the Commando crashing into the next table. It felt like slamming into a durasteel wall and sent stabs of pain through his back from the old injury.

"Darman!" the second Commando, dropped the tray of food he was holding and grabbed his mate, holding the other man back. _"Udesii,_ Dar! Let it go!"

Darman shook off his buddy, but the second Commando had put himself strategically between Rex and Darman.

"Walk it off, Dar. Get something to eat. I'll come find you later."

Darman opened his mouth to argue but the other commando had a look on his face that said it wasn't a suggestion. Darman huffed and growled. He shot a long glare at Rex and stalked back the way he'd come.

"Sorry about him," the remaining commando said. "He's had it rough the past few weeks."

"Lots of things are changing," Rex nodded, "it's harder on some than others."

"I'm Niner," the commando held out his hand. Rex reached out and was happy to find the commando reached for his forearm, clasping it in the Mandalorian handshake.

"Rex."

"Good to meet you, _ner vod_. Mind if I join you?"

Rex just shrugged and righted his chair. Niner sat down beside him, leaning back casually and letting his eyes sweep the crowded mess.

"You know a lot of _mando'a_ for an infantry trooper."

"I learned from and Alpha ARC, A-17."

"Then he gave you that," Niner motioned toward the Jaig Eyes on Rex's helmet.

"No. It was one of the Mandalorians."

"The _Cuy'val Dar_."

"A doctor," Rex said nodding.

"Gilamar?"

"You know him?" Rex asked.

"Yeah, he was close with our sergeant, mine and Dar's," Niner explained. "He's a good man."

"And our enemy now."

"You noticed his name on the wanted list then?" Niner asked.

Rex felt the familiar sensation of a knife twisting in his stomach and the faint smell of burning flesh seemed to linger in his nose, turning his appetite. Of course he noticed the kind old Sergeant's name on the wanted list, he checked it every morning to see if Ahsoka was still there. She was and her picture, silka bead padewan braid and bright blue eyes, looked foreign no mater how long he stared at it.

"Does it bother you that we're now hunting the people who used to be our allies?" Niner went on at Rex's silence, his voice dropping lower, nearly getting lost in the general din of the mess.

"Orders are orders," Rex said mechanically.

"I didn't ask if you would do it," Niner replied, "I asked if it bothered you."

"I've done things that bothered me before."

"Just a question, _ner vod._ "

"Does it bother you?" Rex glanced sidelong at Niner. The Commando was frowning and watching Dar walking back through the line with his tray.

"I knew some of the Jedi quite well. I know at least one that didn't deserve to die. She wouldn't have been a part of any coup. All she wanted was to protect her men, see them through the war and then live peacefully." Niner sounded wishful.

"You were 'close' to her?" Rex asked. A tight feeling took over his chest, making every heartbeat painful.

"I wasn't but Dar was… really close to her. _Val solus tome bal dar._ " Niner said they had been one, together or separate: the words of the Mandalorian wedding vow. Rex swallowed and looked over at Darman again across the room. He had lost even more than Rex.

"Was Darman the one who…?" Rex trailed off.

" _No!_ " Niner hissed. "He wouldn't—couldn't. It was a Jedi. A Jedi killed her by accident because she was protecting a clone, a shinny nobody."

"I'm sorry."

"So am I. It doesn't bring her back though."

"No. It doesn't."

"He's been like this every since. Half the time he's normal, like it never happened. Then sometimes he's just angry and he doesn't seemed to remember who she was or… what they had. But he doesn't grieve."

Rex felt like his heart was sore and struggling to pump, aching in his chest with every action. It felt trapped.

"Yeah," he muttered, looking down at his helmet on the table. "I think I know what that's like."

"What is?" Niner pressed.

"Waiting to grieve and being angry because you can't," Rex said softly.

"I thought you might understand him better than I do." Niner said. Rex sat up in surprise. "You're Rex of the 501st. Word gets around," Niner explained. "I heard you were the reason that we captured Kenobi and you led the hunt for Skywalker's Padewan on Shili. They were your COs before the Purge."

"I didn't lead the search."

"You were involved though."

"Yeah." Rex admitted sullenly.

"Then it does bother you," Niner concluded. Rex groaned and ran a hand over his buzz cut. He sighed heavily and stared down at the two eyes painted above the visor on his helmet.

"Niner," Darman was back, he'd walked up behind them. "We've got a briefing in 10."

"Right." Niner stood up. "See you around, _Vod_." He slapped Rex on the back. Rex hesitated long enough for the commandos to take steps before he stopped them.

"Niner," he said sharply, looking up. He met his brother's identical brown eyes. "It doesn't. Not as much as I think it should."

"I know what you mean," Niner replied and something tight in Rex's chest relaxed. He watched the two commando's leave the mess and even after they were gone he was staring at the door.

He was still confused about his emotions toward the Jedi, toward Obi-Wan and Anakin, and _her_ , but he felt a little reassured. Maybe he wasn't crazy. Or at least, he was no crazier than any of his brothers. That was all he needed anyway: brothers. That's all he'd ever had in the beginning. That was all he had now, wasn't it? _Maybe_ , Rex said to himself, thinking of Luke, _I have something more;_ an even greater duty.

* * *

Author's Note: So Walli, Kaden (KAH-den), Su'ratiin (soo-RAH-teen), and Ven are all my characters. They have their uses, each of them. Kaden and Sur'atiin are some of Walon Vau's trainee's and their names mean "anger" and "vigilance" respectively. Walli is a borderline aberrant clone and Ven is your average clone trooper who makes the best of his rotten luck in life. Like them, hate them, leave me a review and let me know. Questions are welcome. I love it when people question my decisions. They make me think harder and come up with better plot. –Ember


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: So I'm sorry this chapter took so long to get posted. It's been a bit hectic in my real life. Anyway. The next two chapters are written so they should be up sooner.

I came up with my own way of telling dates (since I can't very well use the ABY system. You can't tell dates based on an event that hasn't happened yet). I'm creating a new system starting from the year of Order 66 that will be marked in A.I. for After Imperium for years after the Empire was founded or B.I. for before.

* * *

 **Chapter 3: Soldiers' Duty**

.

The small freighter lowered to the landing platform and gave a shuddering _thud_ when it hit the artificial ground. Ahsoka took a deep breath and re-adjusted the new unfamiliar headdress. The paint on her skin covering her distinctive markings was uncomfortably itchy but she tried to bear it. She took a deep breath to calm her pounding heart and turned toward the opening cargo bay doors.

"Here goes," she muttered to herself.

"You'll be fine," the ship's captain, a tall red-brown togruta said softly to her. "They never see more than markings on aliens anyway."

"I hope you're right," Ahsoka said as she followed him onto the platform.

"Authorizations and manifest!" A clone voice, so similar to those Ahsoka had known, snapped at them as soon as they disembarked. She was glad she didn't have to respond because the stab of irrational pain in her chest took away any breath she had. The voice that used to bring her instant comfort and assurance now sent her heart racing with anxiety and her palms sweat.

"Here, I think you'll find everything in order," the capain said icily. He looked the picture of the annoyed freighter as he passed over his pad, disdainful of clones and humans in general. The soldier would see a legitimate transport of fine clothing and accessories from the Togrutan colony of Kiros. Despite it's distance from the Core, the artisan good from Kiros had a reputation and a hefty price tag to accompany. It wasn't the kind of freighter that would harbor a fugitive and even the clone knew that.

"Crew?" The clone demanded while he gave the pad a cursory glance.

"Just myself and my cousin, Glah-Tor," the captain replied. Ahsoka played her part and looked around in apparent awe at the expansive artificial landscape of towering high rises and dappled ever-moving patterns of sky-lanes. In reality she was looking for cameras, surveillance, or any sign of an ambush or trap. There was nothing. Only a few more cameras in sight than she expected.

"First time in the city?" The clone asked her.

 _"Hahl gha-ke,"_ she replied in Togruti.

"She says it's quite breathtaking."

"You get used to it," the trooper replied. Ahsoka didn't think she'd ever get used to the feeling of being penned in by her enemies on all sides.

"Everything looks good," the Clone told them, "You can unload here, then park your vessel in lot 54-Delta. Don't use it as transport around the city, get a speeder-cab."

"Of course," the captain replied and nodded to the clone. The soldier walked off, headed toward the next ship to do the same thing. Ahsoka breathed a sigh of relief.

"You were right," she said. "Thank you. I know this was a big risk for you."

"Nonsense," the captain leveled her with his bright orange eyes, "the people of Kiros remember what you did for us Ahsoka Tano. We won't ever forget it."

"I just did my duty."

"You saved me and my family, my entire community, from slavery. You will always have a place among us, no mater what government claims our sovereignty."

"Thank you," Ahsoka said, her voice tight with emotion. Impulsively she hugged the captain. It was one of the great luxuries of no longer being forbidden to form attachments; she could show physical affection. It was still new and unfamiliar, but the warm feeling in her chest demanded she do something and the Jedi's traditional bow seemed too impersonal.

"Good luck, child."

"You as well." Ahsoka replied and turned away.

"I almost forgot," she said, turning back, reaching up to her forehead. "The real Glah-Tor will want this back." She fumbled with the clasp of the headdress.

"No, please. She wants you to keep it. This way you will always have a piece of Kiros with you and a reminder of our thanks."

"Tell her I will wear it proudly," Ahsoka said, running her fingers over the smooth silver and soft tanned leather adornment. The war might forever be a dark scar in her memory but some good had come of it. The people of Kiros were better for her involvement. Ahsoka turned and headed for the city walkways with her head held high.

.

Ahsoka watched the non-descript entrance from across the chasm between high-rise buildings. The building that topped in a platform in the lower city was old, gray, stained and crumbling on the outside but Ahsoka watched the changing guards and counted the security cameras around the outer walls. It was a fortress deep in the heart of the city. Most prisons were secured by isolation. The Citadel had been secured on the inhospitable burning planet of Lola Sayu in a nearly empty sector of space. This fortress had the opposite kind of protection. It was a pitcher plant, easy to enter but impossible to get out of. There was only one exist for all that Ahsoka could see, and that was the top, a small door and turbo lift down to the lower levels. Her scans showed her the first hundred floors visible from the still habited levels of the city were empty and quiet, no movement, life or power signatures: a one hundred floor maze. The facility seemed to extend even further below that into the old abandoned under-levels of the city. You couldn't go through those levels that were now a maze of duracrete filled with toxic waste dumps. You couldn't bomb the prison without going through the upper city over top. You couldn't bring any sizable force against it without going through the lower city and causing a stir. You couldn't assault it on your own without getting stuck inside and the staff was all clones so an inside job was out of the question.

Ahsoka sighed and dropped her binoculars. Anakin would have walked right into it, she knew. He would just gather as many forces as he could, abandoning surprise, and storm the place, then rely on luck and some fancy flying to escape. But if Ahsoka did that now she'd never make it out of the core, there were just too many Imperial fleets.

A creeping sensations that raised bumps under her lekku made Ahsoka freeze where she was laying on top of a warehouse, underneath their glowing billboard sign. She felt the familiar sensation in the Force of someone focusing on her. She'd been found, but not by the prison staff. She was monitoring them closely. This feeling was different and came from somewhere above her.

Slowly Ahsoka crawled back from the edge, keeping her eyes on the prison but her senses focused on the new observer. She crept back across the rooftop and dropped down off the edge she'd climbed over from. It was only when her feet hit the ground of the walkway that she started running.

Her follower did too.

Whoever he was, he was fast or airborne because he kept pace as she wove and dodged through the thickening traffic. She was too recognizable to get lost in anything less than a big crowd so she booked it for the nearest market. It was a busy bustling center at all times of day squished between the base of one of the largest high-rise buildings and butting up against the local entertainment district. The bright lights and flashing signs turned every color of skin garish and unnatural. Ahsoka slipped into the crowd and wove in a doubling back pattern through the throng.

She felt that her follower had lost her but she played it safe and checked her own path twice. There was nothing.

Smirking, Ahsoka found the nearest exit and hailed a passing speeder-cab. It started pulling closer to the landing platform. Just as Ahsoka felt the presence latch onto her again the speeder veered away. Strong solid hands grabbed her from behind, latching around her waist and one large meety, tough skinned hand covering her face. She tried to scream out but it was a muffled wail. She could hardly breath and writhed helplessly against the strong multiarmed grip. A growl vibrated her little body as she struggled. For a moment Ahsoka considered the Force. She could easily throw her attacker off with it but that would give her away as a Jedi. She hadn't even brought her lightsabers for fear of discovery, only _his_ pair of DCs strapped to her hips. She felt the holsters jostle against her skirt as the weapons were wrenched out of her reach.

The sound of a speeder, drives screeching and repulsers faltering like bad glimick music, came suddenly up beside her. Ahsoka felt herself thrown in the back and scrambled around, free of the confining arms. She caught a flash of bright fuchsia light on a strange alien's features before the back door closed and she was thrown into darkness.

"What the hell do you want?" Ahsoka asked, her breathlessness passing for fear. She was reaching out with the Force meanwhile, calming herself for the fight ahead. The Force showed her two other occupants in the speeder besides the driver and the one who had thrown her inside. The last hadn't moved and the driver was currently zooming in and out of speeder lanes with the kind of reckless abandon Anakin was fond of. The two others were confused but not hostile… yet.

A light flicked on overhead and threw the wrinkled and whiskered face of a Besalisk into harshly contrasting shadows. A rodian sat to Ahsoka's left, eyeing her with suspicion. She could tell he was the one who had followed her from the prison. To the right was a Bothan, tall and furred, he felt male in the Force and wore a heavy dark red jacket.

"Well, well, well," the Besalisk said to himself in a voice that struck a cord in Ahsoka's memory. The large beast whipped one of his many hands on the grease stained apron he was wearing, smearing it with the white and red paint that used to cover Ahsoka's face. He reached another hand forward as he did and rubbed at Ahsoka's forehead. "If it isn't little 'Soka."

"Dex?" Ahsoka asked in shock.

"That's me. I'd hope little Ani's Padawan would remember me."

"Of course. You make that great roba fry up."

"Oh you did like that," Dex laughed, deep and good-naturedly. His companions around Ahsoka relaxed and leaned back in their seats, easing their hands away from their weapons. Ahsoka eyed the nasty looking knife the Bothan was carrying and sighed in relief.

"Suppose you'll be wanting these back," Dex said and held out the cromium blasters as a peace offering. "Strange choice of weapon for a Jedi." Ahsoka accepted them gingerly and slid them back into their holsters.

"I'm not a Jedi. Why did you grab me?"

"Well, we were just going to pull you over and have a little chat about your interest in the The Monolith."

"The Monolith?"

"That's the prison you was looking into so hard," Dex said, shuffling over to one of the long benching in the back of the speeder. Ahsoka pulled herself up onto the seat behind her.

"What do you know about it?" Ahsoka asked the old Besalisk.

"That it's no good for anyone to go messing with, least of all a wanted Jedi."

"I told you, I'm not a Jedi."

"Ye' are what the Empire says ye' are and they seem convinced you're Jedi enough."

Ahsoka just glowered.

"You know who they're keeping in there?" she asked Dex.

"I know of a few people… not all of them are worth springing. The galaxy is better without some individuals."

"Obi-Wan Kenobi?" She looked up but she didn't need to see the old cook's face to feel the shock that the news gave him.

"No?"

"Yes. He was captured in the Temple the night of the Purge. He's been down there, in The Monolith, for nearly two weeks."

"I'll be, Master Obi captured." Dex's face was hard to read but in the Force his remorse was clear. He was mourning his friend and desperately trying to stay hopeful.

"Why would the Empire leave someone like Kenobi alive?" The Bothan asked in a deep gravely voice. "He's too dangerous to them if he escapes. He was a member of the council. Why didn't they execute him like the others?"

"Perhaps they have found a way of using his connection to the Force?" The Rodian offered.

"No amount of convincing would turn Obi against the Jedi. The Force takes strength from faith." Dex defending his friend vehemently. "He's no use to them."

"They have a use for him," Ahsoka cut in. "He's the bait in the trap."

"For whom?" the Rodian asked. Ahsoka just looked at Dex.

"Ani?" He asked in awe. "I'd hoped he had survived. Him and his woman too?"

"Yes, she escaped as well. Anakin was injured. That's the only reason he isn't here busting down the front door." It was half of the truth but Ahsoka didn't think spreading the news of the Chosen One's lost son was good idea.

"Then you're here to bust out Obi-Wan."

"I was hoping to but I've been watching the facility for days. The main entrance is like a one way swinging door. I could get in but not out and I can't find any other entrances or exits. Lots of ventilation shafts but they're as good as a meat grinder."

"Yes," the Besalisk was nodding his head and stroking his large flabby chin. "I may have a solution to your problems little one," he said and a devilish grin slit his face. "It's daring but if you're anything like your Master, you'll be up for it I think."

"You have another entrance?"

"Maybe not, but an exit," the old Besalisk chuckled at his own plan. "What do you know of mole-runners?"

Ahsoka's brow furrowed.

"Nothing gets mined on Coruscant. What do you want with one of those?"

Dex just grinned his toothy, whisker bristling grin. He beckoned Ahsoka to lean in closer as they speed through the lowercity speeder lanes into the shadowy darkness.

.

Rex debated over Nia Kahn's evaluation when he picked it up off his desk. He wasn't quite sure what to say about the false-mother caretaker who tended to Luke. His brothers' evaluations had all been fairly simple. The Commandos were blisteringly efficient, Walli was infuriatingly silent or bewilderingly insightful in turns, Ven was funny, Coric was stoic, and Fox was grouchy. They all did their jobs. Nia was different.

She cared for Luke as if he was her entire world, neglecting her own health. Coric had taken to asking her at every meal what she'd eaten and making sure she slept a decent amount. When Luke slept she wandered the rooms with a vacant expression and when he was awake she was there beside him. The first day she made one of Luke's toys move with the Force Kaden nearly pulled his blade on her. Walli seemed unsurprised while Ven and Sur'atiin were only mildly discomforted by it. Nia herself was never trouble and always good with Luke. She didn't act like a new mother, but went about her care of Luke like it was an enjoyable routine, something to be envied. She would hold Luke when he was upset in his silent way and whisper to him. Sometimes her faint words sounded almost like _Mando'a_ to Rex.

The door snapped open and Coric walked in without knocking. Rex dropped Nia's half finished evaluation and had his mouth half way open to complain when he saw the tight set of the medic's shoulders. Coric pulled his helmet off to reveal the tight line of his mouth. He strode purposefully across the room.

"What is it?" Rex demanded. "Is something wrong with Luke?"

"No," Coric said flatly, his face white. He swept the room with his eyes, noticing the bottle of alcohol on the desk and the half finished glass. It was one of the things he overlooked about the new Rex. The old Rex never drank and hated pain-killers. This new one was never relaxed but the closest he came was under the influence of something, 'what' didn't seem to mater. Rex kept it strictly off duty though, the only reason Coric allowed it to continue.

"This an intervention, Coric?" Rex demanded. Regular people had those, he'd heard.

"No, sir. May I?" He asked and motioned toward the glass. Rex nodded solemnly. His expression transformed into shock as his straight-laced medic downed the whole glass. Coric whipped his eyes when he lowered the glass.

"I thought you might want to see this," he said and held out the data-pad in his hand. "I'll leave you to… read it over." Coric hitched his helmet to his belt and picked up Rex's. "Alone," he said meaningfully and turned around. The door closed leaving Rex in the soundproofed box of his office.

He looked down at the pad in his hand and with a pool of cold dread in his stomach he read:

 **Incident Report 274.6254.9**

 **Source: Imperial Penitentiary Logistics and Services**

 **Location: Imperial Deep Security Prison, Lower Imperial City (0, 0, 0)**

 **Date: 0 A.I. 08.29 0204 hours**

 **Security: Beta-9**

 **At 0209 Hours the DeepSec was breached through the main entrance by one individual identified as Ahsoka Tano, Padawan of Anakin Skywalker and associate of the Jedi Order, wanted fugitive of the Galactic Empire. Tano breached security phases one through nine before cutting video and audio feeds to offsite surveillance. Galactic Intelligence suspected that Tano or Skywalker would make an attempt, on their own or in tandem, to retrieve prisoner 993, Obi-Wan Kenobi, former Master of the Jedi Order and former Member of the Jedi Council, captured 0 A.I. 08.03.**

 **At 0219 Imperial Shock Troopers arrived at DeepSec main entrance. Security phases one through seven were reoccupied. No escapees were detected.**

 **At 0220 Hours DeepSec fire alarms were set off. Ventilation failed to shut off. Fire spread rapidly from sections 7, 33, and 59. Evacuation began. By 0228 all sections were reporting fire.**

 **At 0241 all detainees were evacuated. No escapees. Tano was not seen exiting the facility.**

 **A through search of the facility was conducted. Damage: extensive. Levels -60 through -130 collapsed. Casualties: Unknown estimated, at 13 inmates, 35 clone troopers, 4 Military Personnel.**

 **Ahsoka Tano and the intended Escapee Obi-Wan Kenobi were not recovered from the Facility nor where they observed leaving. Investigators conclude both perished in the collapse of the lower levels.**

 **Damages to the DeepSec Facility were extensive including…**

The rest of the page blurred before Rex's eyes. He could feel the hot drops rolling down his cheeks. Slowly he lifted his hand to his face and felt the liquid seeping into his glove. His grip on the data pad was nearly painful and finger by finger he forced himself to let go of the instrument and let it clatter to the table top.

 _Ahsoka dead?_ He wondered to himself. _Is that possible? Yes of course it is! You of all people know how breakable she is. You've seen her torn down exhausted, dying of an extinct plague, you_ kriffing _SHOT her!_

 _"_ So she's dead," he heard the words past his own lips but they didn't sound like his. They were dead and cold as Nia's words. _Oh, yes I am,_ she'd said when Walli noticed her crying. Just like him.

 _Why am I crying?_ He wondered to himself. _I don't feel sad._ And he didn't. His shoulders felt lighter, his head clearer, and the pain in his back that had driven him to drinking was now manageable. He wasn't sad; he was _relieved._

 _Why am I relieved?_ He asked in horror. _Was I just scared I would be the one to kill her? Or was I scared that it would hurt? Maybe it just hasn't hit me yet? No! I know she's dead. I've accepted that but it still doesn't hurt. Then was it all in my head? Did I ever care if she lived or died? Or did I just secretly want her dead the whole time?_

 _What about all those times I saved her? Risked my life saving her? Was all of that just duty? It didn't feel like it at the time._

But still when he thought of Ahsoka and pictured her face, happy smile and bright blue eyes all he could think of was his brothers dying in a foggy dim lit forest on some alien world of unknown threats. Thoughts of her made his stomach flip and flop restlessly and hands long for the solid grip of a weapon. She sent shivers up his spin and the sick feeling of fear into his chest, clamping down on his heart.

 _No, no, no!_ Rex shook his head. _That wasn't her!_ He tried to remember sitting up late after their return from Kadavo swapping stories that were hard to remember and harder to think about. He tried to remember how she'd cried for the youngling who died in her arms on the Trandoshan Moon. He tried to remember the way she cursed Krell through her tears and recited the Mandalorian prayer for the dead with him. He tried to remember forcing a laugh at her horrible pronunciation. But that, like all the other good times they'd shared was lost to him. He reached and reached but there was nothing in his memory but bitterness.

"Arrgh!" Rex jumped up and slammed his fist into the wall, trying to punch out all the bitter anger that was bottled up behind his skin. If he could get it out maybe, maybe he could get her back. Maybe…

So he punched the wall again and again. He kept punching it blindly, blind to his own pain and the bloody spot forming on the walls. He beat it and screamed at the four walls confining him. He threw his frustration at the filing cabinet and the chair and the desk. Glass shattered as the bottle hit the floor and data-pads clattered off each other. Rex kicked the whole upturned thing and sent it skidding loudly across the floor. He screamed into his hands and scrapped his bloody gloves over his scalp crying tears he didn't understand.

The blinding red anger faded as Rex collapsed onto the floor but the cloud over his memory and the bitterness remained. All the happy moments of his life were still out of his reach, lost somewhere in the tides of the war… the never ending war… one long never ending mission… one long never ending nightmare. Suddenly he thought of Fives.

 _…_ _the mission… the nightmares… they're finally over._ Those had been his last words. His mad ramblings in hindsight were prophetic.

 _There's a sinister plot… even kill the Jedi… It's in here… chips built into our genetic code… it's in every clone… true beyond a shadow of a doubt… a massive deception… because I know the truth… he told me… this is bigger than any of us… The chancellor… a sinister plot… he orchestrated much of this… the mission… It's in here… the nightmares… I only meant to do my duty._ Rex let Fives words tumble through his head. He thought of Niner's words and the deep frown that pulled unfamiliar lines in the identical face. He remembered Dar's anger, a tempest just under the man's skin that was the same shade as Rex's. He sat back against the wall and tried to slow his breathing, tried not to panic.

 _It's in here._ Fives had said, finger to his temple. Rex realized it wasn't his sanity he should have been questioning these past weeks. It was his brain that was suspect.

Coric knocked on the door some times later, Rex didn't know if it was five minutes or five hours but the light was gone from the windows of the guard's quarters. Coric shut the door behind himself. Rex noticed he'd left their helmets outside. The Captain thought he should probably sweep the whole apartment for bugs again with some new equipment. Nothing was trustworthy now that his own brain wasn't.

"Got that off your chest then," Coric replied and gathered the overturned bottle from amid the wreckage. A portion was till trapped inside and sloshed around the bottom. "Feel better?"

"Will any of us ever be 'better', _vod_? After what we've seen and done?" Rex asked.

"No," Coric said and sat down heavily beside Rex. He took a swig from the bottle. "I don't think we will. All of us are going to be dead soon enough though, between the healthy lifestyle and our genetic predisposition to a long life." He took another swig and passed the bottle over.

Rex looked at it suspiciously. He knew the alcohol would ease away his worries, calm him down but he also knew it was artificial. Somehow the idea of letting anything else, even a known substance change his perceptions turned his stomach. He shook his head and Coric just shrugged.

"Remember the nightmares?" Rex asked. "The ones we talked about after Teth?"

"Yeah, I remember them. Teth happened; it's over. Those…"

"They're never over," Rex finished. _Not for us but for Fives, and Tup, and Echo…_

"I used to think when I woke up 'at least the war isn't like that'," Coric said, looking down the neck of the bottle. He tipped it back again.

"What about now?"

"Now I just dream about that blasted Temple burning."

"You were there during the Purge?"

"Yeah, the 501st took the Temple and eliminated the Jedi just like we were told. Every last one."

"Who was there? Most of the Jedi were serving across the galaxy."

"The ones who couldn't serve…not yet…" Coric emptied the bottle. "I did my duty. That doesn't mean I have to like it. You know that as well as I do." Coric stood, a little less steady on his feet and waved a hand at the destruction of Rex's office. "You get it. But we're soldiers. That's all we ever were. Soldiers in someone else's war, less than mercenaries. _Dar'manda,_ soulless and futureless from the start… I guess I shouldn't have expected men like that to have decent jobs." Coric put the bottle on the top of the drawers of the desk that was now parallel with the ceiling.

"Get yourself cleaned up Rex. Come see me if you need help bandaging those hands. Just don't forget to wash the blood off the wall." Coric turned and walked out as he'd come, stumbling over scattered data pads. Rex doubted his old friend would still be awake to help bandage up his bruised and weeping knuckles.

Rex sat alone again in his office trying to imagine Coric shooting younglings, even Jedi younglings armed with sabers. He couldn't. Not Coric. Coric was a medic and had always taken pride in the fact that he was a clone who didn't just take lives. He gave them back. That Coric wouldn't shoot younglings even if they were half way to becoming Jedi. They weren't traitors of the Republic by any means. Coric just wouldn't.

But he had. The medic's placement on Luke's guard was proof enough of that. Walli was given a place because he found a Jedi stow-away on his transport. The Commando's had lost the other half of their squad to the Jedi they were tasked with eliminating. The former Shock Trooper, Ven had taken out a group of Jedi making their last stand in the lower city with a platoon of _vode_ hostage with them. Ven saved his brothers and removed the Jedi. Fox's story was still a secret above Rex's clearance level and the former Commander seemed happy to leave it that way. All of them had been involved in Order 66 in some way, that was easy to figure out.

Rex just wasn't sure what all of it meant.

 _What could you see that I can't, Fives?_ He wondered and rubbed his temple where Fives had pointed on his own head. _I'm sorry, ner vod. I'm sorry I didn't listen. I'm sorry I couldn't save you either._ Rex hung his head and sighed in exhaustion. He looked at the wreckage around him despondently.

 _This is my life now,_ He realized. _This will be the rest of my life._ It was a dark and gloomy but short future like Coric said.

* * *

Author's Note: Yay for FIVES! I loved Fives and Echo. I'm trying to write Echo into the story later... much later unfortunately. Anyway, as always please leave reviews and thankyou to everyone who has left reviews. You make my day! -Ember


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note: Ok. I know you probably all thought I was dead. I'm still alive... somehow. My life kind of fell apart and this was one of the many things that I just haven't had the time or energy for. I'm happy to say my life is more on track now. So Here is a nice double chapter for anyone who's still reading this. Thank you so much for sticking through my erratic posting schedule. Hope you enjoy. -November (It's my month!)

 **.**

 **Chapter 4: Journeys Home: Part I: Caf**

.

Anakin looked up from the wooden door he was sanding when he heard the ship's engines echoing down the valley. He held his breath for a moment, looking up over the tree tops toward the rising slopes and the sharp turn of the valley where the sound emanated. A dark red shape rounded the rocky mountain side, coasting lower as it approached. Anakin reached out anxiously in the Force and felt the familiar presence reaching back to him.

"Haha! Padme!" he dropped his tools and jumped up. He stumbled on the prosthetic leg and sung his arms for balance. "Padme!" He yelled toward the house. Her head pooped out of the kitchen window, brown hair wild and curling from the humid air inside.

"They're back!" He called to her as he hurried around the front of the house.

"Who, Ani?" She asked but he was already gone. The sound of engine drowned out everything else on the small farm moments later.

Anakin ran up to the ship before it was even resting on it's landing supports and waited anxiously at the loading ramp. Ahsoka disembarked first wearing her new headdress and the Naboo blasters, one on each hip. Anakin checked himself from grabbing her up as he jumped up onto the ramp to greet her, before realizing he no longer had to. Grinning broadly, he threw his arms around the short togruta.

"Welcome back, Snips." He sighed as her unique presence in the Force washed over him. It wasn't as calm and vivacious as it had been when she was his student but it was calmer than before she had left Varikino. There were scars that she would carry for the rest of her life, but she was healing around them. The change in her made all his sleepless nights of worry and frustration worth while.

"Thanks," Ahsoka held him lightly in return and forced a smirk when she pulled away. "I didn't even need your help this time, Skyguy."

"No, she didn't," Obi-Wan Kenobi said, descending the ramp toward them. "You trained her well, Anakin." He was smiling behind his overgrown beard. His face bore new scars, one cutting across his jaw as a hairless streak of pale skin, another over his eye, cutting his eyebrow, and one across the bridge of his nose. The careful way he walked told Anakin that the injuries were more than just superficial. He hugged his old master gently, even though he wanted to cling to the few connections he had left to the Jedi Order.

"I taught her everything you taught me, Master," he said as they descended the ramp, "that includes my expertise at saving your life."

"That time on Cato Nemoidia still doesn't count," Obi-Wan insisted.

"And the other nine times?" Anakin asked.

"Nine?" Ahsoka asked. "I've never heard the official score. I think I might have you beat, Skyguy."

"At saving Obi-Wan?"

"At saving _my_ Master," She replied with a smirk.

"Oh do tell, what is your score, little one?" Obi-Wan pressed.

"Well, there was that time on Maridun and…"

"Obi-Wan!" Padme came bursting out of the house with a wide smile on her face, cutting off Ahsoka. She rushed, eyes tearing up, to embrace the Jedi Master more forcefully than her husband. Obi-Wan winced and she immediately jumped back.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Are you alright?" She asked anxiously.

"I'll be just fine after a few days rest."

"I'll fix you up a room. It may be a bit drafty but at least the roof doesn't leak anymore," Padme said then turned to Ahsoka and embraced the young togruta. "I'm glad your back. We were very worried about you."

"I'm fine Padme," Ahsoka said, shying away from the hug. A gasp drew all their attention to the garden gate where Satine was standing with Leia cradled in her arms, half hidden by the climbing tormato plants.

Obi-Wan couldn't help the small smile pulling at his lips when he saw her with her hair pulled back simply, wearing a rough blue dress with the hem turned brown with dust. She seemed as comfortable and regal in the common clothing as she ever did in all her Sundari finery.

Satine was frozen on the garden path looking on at the happy reunion. The scene before her blurred even as she blinked against the tears. She held up her hand over her lips so they might not give her away and held her breath.

Leia squirmed in her arms, sensing her caretaker's turbulent emotions. The small child looked anxiously back and forth between her parents and Satine with wide dark eyes.

Padme hurried forward to her child, taking her gently from Satine's arms and whispering reassurances. Subtly Anakin reached out to his daughter in the Force, feeling how like him she was even with a gentle touch. He told her, as only he could, that everything was alright and showed her how happy Obi-Wan was and the satisfaction and pride Ahsoka was radiating.

"Hello Satine," Obi-Wan said as she stepped forward, eyes searching his face. Her gaze lingered on every new scar and she reached out for a moment as if she might touch them. She pressed her lips together to hide their trembling.

"H-how?" she finally managed one hoarse, whispered question and tore her gaze away from Obi-Wan to look at Ahsoka.

"It's a long story actually," Ahsoka said, one hand unconsciously going to rest on the handle of the blaster at her right hip. "Turns out Obi-Wan has some good friends in the galaxy. You probably remember Dex Jettster, Anakin."

"Dex?" He asked incredulously. "How did he get involved?"

"The digger was his idea," Ahsoka said.

"Digger? On Coruscant? Sounds interesting. How did you get one there? And who would even think of trying that? What did-"

"Anakin," Padme cut in, "They're probably exhausted. Let them at least sit down and have a meal before you start pestering them with questions."

"Oh, it's Ahsoka's story. I wasn't very helpful, I'm sorry to say," Obi-Wan insisted. "But a real meal would be nice."

"I'll go see what I've got," Padme said, hoisting Leia higher on her hip. "You want to come help?" She asked her daughter, bumping their noses together and making the baby giggle happily. Anakin watched his wife walking back toward the house with a look of pure love on his face. Obi-Wan held back a sigh, looking at his former student. He tried not to wonder what would have happened if the Council had let Anakin love Padme this way instead of forbidding it. What was done, was done. There was a different future ahead of them both now, maybe a brighter one. Obi-Wan tore his eyes from Anakin's adoring expression and shared a glance with Ahsoka, who gave him the smallest of nods.

"Let's go see if we can help her, Anakin," She said, grabbing her Master's arm, "and I'll tell you what Dex has been up to."

"I always knew there was more to that old cook," Anakin said and glanced back over his shoulder at Obi-Wan as he was dragged away.

Obi-Wan turned to Satine, to find her bright eyes still locked on his face. For a moment it scrambled all the carefully selected words in his mind. For the first time in a very long while he felt completely out of his depth.

"Shall we," Satine offered, nodding toward the house.

"Actually, I'd rather a walk," he said. "I've been held in an underground cell for nearly a month, I've missed the sunlight. Would you join me?"

Satine hesitated for a moment before nodding and slipping her hand around his offered arm. They walked slowly, Obi-Wan setting a gentle pace, into the garden. Satine thought back to the last time they had walked this way on Coruscant outside of the Senate building and the words Obi-Wan has said to her then. She tried not to let them raise her hopes.

"How have you been Satine?" He asked her as they passed between the rows of vegetable plants.

 _Worried about you,_ she thought automatically.

"Well, you know," she stalled, mind racing. _How does he make me feel like a child again without even trying?_ She thought. "I've been adjusting."

"Yes, this is quite different from your life on Coruscant."

"It's relaxing, actually," Satine said with a sigh. "I'd forgotten how much I used to enjoy my garden at home. It was always a nice escape from… whatever was happening around me in politics. Plants don't lie to you or try to bribe you or insult your way of life."

"Yes," Obi-Wan chuckled. "I think I could come to like a life that doesn't involve being constantly shot at."

"Haven't you earned that at least?" She asked him, keeping her eyes on the dirt path and the flapping hem of her skirt.

"I don't know." He sighed and fell silent for a long moment.

"I've had a lot of time to think, this last month," he finally said. "I thought… I knew the chances of escape were slim and I hoped no one would be foolhardy enough to try a rescue."

"Did you think your friends would give up on you so easily?"

"No but… for their sakes I hoped. Ahsoka put herself in a great deal of danger, as did Dex and his friends. I… I don't know if I deserved that."

"How can you say that?" She asked him. "Of course you do. You have only ever been a kind and compassionate protector of the Republic and everything it stood for."

"No, Satine. I was a General in a war I had no place in, you said it yourself and I was too stubborn to listen," He shook his head and squeezed his hand over hers on his arm. "You were right, I see that now. The Jedi had no business in the war."

"The war would have been lost without the Jedi!" She argued even as her old arguments echoed in her mind.

"It was lost, my dear." He said softly, his voice full of guilt and grief. "We fought the war to protect the Republic, protect democracy and the Order. All of that is gone now."

Desperately, Satine searched for a contradiction but there was nothing to say. The Jedi Order was whipped out in one terrible blow. The Republic reformed into something that hardly resembled the democracy it had been created to be. It was hard to think that she had once been a powerful figure in that government, a voice representing the hundreds of worlds in the Council of Neutral Systems. Now she was a fugitive with nothing to her name but the friendship of her companions on Alderaan. She couldn't even use her name openly anymore. Anakin, Padme, and Obi-Wan had lost just as much. They hardly belonged in the galaxy anymore, their parts were played out to their tragic ends.

"What will you do now?" She asked him.

"I… I'm not sure… it depends." He answered, sounding uncomfortable. He cleared his throat and swallowed loudly. "When I was imprisoned I couldn't help but wonder… what had happened on Kalevala. I felt that you—and Padme—had survived, but little else. It bothered me more than I wanted to admit that I would never know if… if you were happy."

Satine stared at him in astonishment and he glanced over to meet her eyes before hastily looking away.

"How could you worry about me in such a position?" she breathed, half annoyed at his relentless selflessness. Obi-Wan just chuckled, a deep rumbling sound that instantly set her at ease.

"I had long since stopped worrying about my self," he explained. "I knew what my own fate would be, or so I thought. I must say, I'm very glad to have been wrong for once. There are thing that I wished I had told you before I died and… well, now I have the chance."

"Yes, Obi-Wan?" Satine asked when he was silent. His feet slowed and they came to a stop below the sour-fruit tree at the back of the garden.

"Well, I suppose I should explain that… it's…" He took a deep breath, feeling uncharacteristically foolish. It was surprising to find he was more nervous about talking to her than charging a line of battle droids. He plowed on regardless. "You told me once you had… feelings, for me."

Satine felt heat on her cheeks and looked down at the dusty ground. "My feelings will never change," she whispered. She felt his arm drop and her hand slid from his sleeve. She tried not to feel hurt that he pulled away. That was how it had always been when emotions ran too high between them; they drew back from each other.

His calloused fingers on her chin were a surprise as they lifted her face with a gentle pressure. She'd hardly raised her eyes when she felt his lips on her own, his beard tickling her face. Her instantaneous surprise faded almost as quickly as it came. His lips were surprisingly insistent as they caressed her own. His hand slipped around her waist and drew her close as her own fell on his shoulder and chest, feeling the solid muscles underneath his tunic.

He pulled away, breathless as she was, but his arm around her did not slacken.

"Neither will mine," he said, close enough that she could feel the breath of his words on her face. Satine felt herself comfortably wrapped in his smell, slightly smoky and warm. Her heart was pounding and her mind racing to make sense of the impossible moment.

"Obi…" She wasn't sure if it was a question or just a statement.

"I always believed that I would have to choose between loving you and being a Jedi. Had you asked, I would have chosen you. I waited for you to say the words, to ask me to stay, even though I knew you never would. You respected me too much."

"What changed?" She asked.

"Everything. The war changed everything and not all of it for the worst I think. Some good will come of all this."

Satine's brow furrowed as she tried to imagine what good could come of the destruction and oppression plaguing the failed Republic. He saw her confusion and tried to explain.

"I saw that, while I was… on Coruscant. I saw in hindsight that the old Order was failing long before this war. We couldn't even see the true fight before us. It was never about Separatists, or Dooku, or Grievous; that was never more than a distraction. No the real fight was the corruption that _you_ were fighting long before the Clone Wars began."

"You forget that I lost that battle," she whispered.

"No, I haven't forgotten that at all. I'm sorry Satine," he pulled her closer against his chest, wrapping both arms around her and pressing his lips to her hair. "So very sorry."

"What happened on Mandalore wasn't your fault," she whispered into his shoulder, leaning into his embrace.

"Maul targeted you to get to me. The Jedi Council refused to help you because of my disobedience. With their support the Senate might have been swayed despite Palpatine's…" Satine pushed him away suddenly to look into his eyes again.

"The Senate was already powerless, nothing the Jedi Council could do would have changed that." She insisted, "If you hadn't disobeyed them I would be dead now, regardless of why Maul came to Mandalore. If he hadn't the Death Watch would have assassinated me eventually or Palpatine would have imprisoned me as an enemy of the Empire. Please don't feel guilty."

"I do," Obi-Wan disagreed vehemently, "and I should. The Jedi made mistakes… so many mistakes. I had doubts before but… I didn't realize. I was so blinded by the Dark Side and distracted by the material things." He shook his head, his eyes lowering. "It was my Order that lost this war," he went on. "We let the galaxy become this dark place that this generation's children will have to grow up with and I have to bear that guilt as much as any other Jedi."

"So what will you do now?" She asked, a lump quickly forming in her throat. She tried not to grip him tighter. He'd only just come back to her and she wasn't sure she could let him go again. Her lips still burned with his kiss and knowing that she might have had that—had the chance to love him—made letting him go so much harder. She'd been lonely for so long. The life of a politician keep her at arms length from her most trusted advisors and even Padme, who had become her closest friend. Even if the little isolated farm house in the unfamiliar Alderaan countryside held more friends than the capital city ever had she was alone there too. She was the extra shadow on the edge of Skywalker family. Even Ahsoka was more integrated, having more history with both the young parents. Who else did Satine have in the world if she didn't have Obi-Wan?

The old Jedi Master was lost in thought for a long moment, his eyes lifted and looking off to the right, unfocused. When he spoke his voice was burdened with the Jedi's ancient wisdom, serene and timeless.

"My duty is to protect the next generation, teach them what I can, make sure they learn from our mistakes. The fight is over for me. It will be up to them now." His gaze flickered back to her and a smile broke across his face under the unkempt beard. It broke the spell of his words and he was again the man she knew and loved. "My place is here with Anakin and Leia… and you, if that is what you want."

"Yes," she agreed immediately, the word popping out of her mouth. She quickly bit her lip and heat rose to her cheeks. "I—I would like that… very much."

His answering smile eased away all the harsh lines of stress and scarring on his face. She saw the young man that had come to her defense as a child and the soldier who came to her rescue on Mandalore not so long ago. He cupped her cheek with one warm hand, his calloused palm gentle against her jaw and leaned in to catch her bottom lip between his own.

This time she kissed him back with restrained passion, all the longing of the years apart welling up like a heat wave in her chest, demanding an escape. She was surprised to feel the same restraint in his kiss.

"Obi-Wan!" Anakin's voice made them both jump and instinctively pull away. Satine felt a blush of shame coloring her cheeks.

 _What is wrong with me!_ She admonished herself mentally, _you have nothing to be ashamed of!_

She chanced a glance at Obi-Wan and met his tentative gaze. He shared a conspiratorial smile with her that brought a laugh bubbling to her lips. It felt surprisingly good.

 _When was the last time I laughed?_ Satine wondered. He chuckled with her, the sound deep and resonating.

"Can you say Obi-Wan?" They heard Anakin's soft voice growing louder as he made his way through the garden towards them. "Oh-bee-wha-ahn," he drew out the words and rounded the trellis supporting the thriving bean plants with Leia on one hip. She laughed and babbled in her infant imitation of speech.

"There you are!" Anakin said, his eyes still fixed on his daughter, "Padme's got dinner ready. Ahsoka said you _dug_ your way out of that prison! I didn't think anything was _dug_ in coruscant other than…" He trailed of as his gaze finally lifted and he took in the awkward distance between his old master and Satine. It dawned on him, slowly, that he might have interrupted something. He froze in his gentle bouncing of the child and Leia hit him with her little chubby arms in protest.

"No, please," Obi-Wan said, the smile that was half hidden behind his beard coming out in his voice, "go on. I'm sure what ever you had to say was as witty and inappropriate as always."

"Uhh…" Anakin just stared at them blankly. "Nope, not really. Padme's got dinner… whenever you…ummm… want it." He turned on his heals and started back toward the house without a backward glance. Obi-Wan just chuckled deep in his chest.

"I believe that is as close to speechless as I have every seen my loquacious apprentice," he said with a hint of smug pride.

"Do you think he knows?" Satine asked. _Will he think less of Obi-Wan now?_ She was really thinking.

"I have honestly ceased to care what other's think. I've been doing that for far too long with nothing to show for it! Master Qui-Gon often told me I let the opinions of others sway my decisions too often. He was wiser than I gave him credit for," Obi-Wan looked off past the house as he spoke toward the glowing red-orange sky where the sun had disappeared. "The galaxy needs more Jedi like him and I very much think it will have them. Shall we?" He asked, holding out a hand to her.

Satine took it gratefully, comforted by the physical connection. His grip was strong even if she could feel the bones beneath his callouses.

"It has been a while since we had a meal together."

"Feels almost like a different lifetime," he agreed, thinking back to the hard conversation they'd had over Dex's greasy breakfast.

"I can assure you at the very least, Padme makes a better cup of caf."

"If there is a heaven in the galaxy they serve Padme Amidala's caf," he said, walking with motivation back through the garden. Satine almost laughed at his excitement.

Anakin was in the doorway when they approached handing Leia into Ahsoka's arms. She made faces at the child and held the little girl gently. Padme looked up from the sink through the kitchen window and grinned to see Satine and Obi-Wan holding hands. It struck her that the old farm house was finally starting to feel like home for all of them.

.

The days in the hushed Coruscant apartment ticked into weeks. The weeks ticked by with repetitive tedium into months. Rex barely marked the passing time. He no longer checked the wanted lists every morning and evening. He read extraneous reports on the Army's movements out of boredom, barely paying attention. Every now and then he would check in on Darman and Niner's squad, where they were and what they were doing. Sometimes he would look at the heavily redacted reports of the 501st under their new mysterious General. Even the casualty list was a mass of solid black censored lines. When he let his thoughts wander into dark places he wondered if anyone he had known in the 501st was still alive.

Rex tried to keep busy while he protected the Emperor's false-child. He'd run his men through drills and rigorous morning training. (Like model clones they didn't complain, not once.) He spent his off time learning dirty hand-to-hand fighting from Kaden and Su'ratiin and meticulously writing his reports. The training sessions always left his back burning where the old injury never quite healed, but they also gave Coric enough of an excuse to hand over the powerful drugs he craved. Rex tried not to abuse his old medic's kindness; he wasn't always successful. Maybe if he'd been more aware he'd have noticed Nia's strange behavior sooner.

It was a dark night, unusually cloudy for the atmospherically controlled capital planet. Rex was sitting at the small table in the kitchen reading over his third monthly overview report while his midnight cup of caf brewed slowly through the expensive machine. He would have been fine with instant but wasn't going to turn down a fresh brewed cup any day. Kaden and Su'ratiin—men of habit—complained about it; they preferred the standard issue powdered variety. He missed the spicy togruta coffee brewed thick as blue-cream that Jaina's cook made every morning; everything else was weak by comparison.

Rex jumped violently when Nia hurried into the room, dropping the pad in his hand. Her head of untidy, thin, brown hair whipped around before her green eyes locked onto him sharply. He was stunned for a moment by the intensity of her gaze, it was nothing like the fazed expression she usually wore.

"There you are!" She said in a clear voice.

"You were looking for me, ma'am?" He asked. Nia's brow furrowed when he said 'ma'am'.

"You can use my name when it's just the two of us, you know," she corrected him.

"If you would prefer," Rex said, still unsettled and unsure of her strange behavior.

"Of course I would," she said with an expression of almost hurt confusion, like she didn't understand why he felt the need to be formal at all. Rex tried to remember if she'd ever made that request of him before but to his knowledge she'd always called him 'Captain' regardless of who was present. But he also knew his memory wasn't always clear—or trustworthy. He pushed aside the last dark thought.

"What did you need me for?" Rex asked instead.

"I just thought you might be awake and want some company."

"That's…" _odd,_ he thought. "…kind of you."

She smiled at him in a way he could only describe as tender, but it was a different smile from the absent-minded adoring look that she gave Luke. Rex shifted uncomfortably in his chair and tried not to show it on his face.

The caf pot began making the soft chugging noises it usually did at the end of a brew. Nia turned around and lithely flitted around the kitchen gathering the sugar pot, cream from the conservator, and cups from the cabinets. But when she reached for spoons her hand went to the wrong drawer and she pulled it open only to be left staring at dish towels instead of silverware. She just stood with a quizzical expression on her face looking down into the drawer.

Rex got up slowly and approached her back. His eyes were locked on her face and it's slowly drifting expression. He frowned.

"Ms. Kahn? Are you alright?" He asked.

"What?" her head snapped up, green eyes focusing like lasers on his face. She blinked once, recognition then confusion flashing in her eyes in rapid succession.

"Are you alright?" Rex asked her.

"Yes, fine. Why?"

"Spoons are in the third drawer over."

"Oh, yes," she seemed to snap out of something and shut the dishtowel drawer quickly. Rex watched her face as she set about fixing coffee. She was distracted, her brow furrowed, showing a little crease on her forehead that Rex hadn't seen before. She stopped suddenly, hand half raised with a spoon.

"What did you call me?" She asked him turning.

 _Is this about the first-names thing?_ He wondered.

"I can call you Nia if you prefer, ma'am, but I don't think it's really appropriate, regardless of the company," he said. She just kept looking at him in confusion and her mouth tested out the name, her stubborn chin dipping down soundlessly.

"Ms. Kahn?" Rex asked when she remained silent staring at him.

"Yes," she answered in the soft lilting voice she usually used.

"Would you like me to pour the caf?" He asked and she looked down at the spoon in her hand.

"No, Captain… I… I don't drink caf."

"Of course, ma'am," Rex said with is brow furrowed. Something was clearly wrong with the woman.

"I—I think I had a dream… I…" She set down the spoon and walked away slowly toward the large window wall behind the little table. Rex watched her go suspiciously. The glass reflected her expression back to him. It was blank again, vacant, almost shell-shocked.

"Are you alright?" he found himself asking, for a lack of anything better to ask. _Damn, I'm not a medic; I'm not trained for this kind of thing,_ he thought angrily.

"Yes," she said and lifted a hand to her head, running it through her hair. "I—I'll just be going back to bed; Luke will wake early." Rex just nodded to her and left the woman to straighten the tangled mass on top of her head. He went on pouring himself a cup of the tantalizing caf. Her footsteps were light on the floor behind him as she made her way to the door.

"Good night," she said and he turned to repeat the parting. The words got caught in his throat though. Nia was right beside him. She sprung up on her tip-toes, a hand on his arm, and leaned over to peck a small kiss on his cheek. Rex froze.

Nia wandered obliviously out of the room, leaving the Captain standing at the counter in stunned silence.

 _What the shab?_ He thought, watching the dark doorway.

"Her behavior is becoming more erratic." The voice from behind Rex made him jump and spin suddenly, spilling the steaming caf over his hand.

"Frak!" He cursed. "Walli!" The usually silent trooper was standing in the doorway to the squad's sleeping quarters in his bodysuit. His hair was messy but his eyes were alert. Rex had no doubt that the trooper had seen Nia's strange parting and all the wrong assumptions that could be drawn from that one moment ran through his brain.

"That was…" He stumbled over his words as he set down the cup and shook the hot liquid off his skin. "It's _not_ what it looks like!"

"I know, Captain," Walli said deadpan.

"You…" Rex glanced at the dark doorway. "Does she… act like that… often?" He wasn't entirely sure what he was asking. _Did Nia kiss all the men like that? Did she have strange mood swings and memory lapses often?_

"It's becoming more pronounced. Sometimes when she first wakes up she's confused. That period is becoming longer," Walli explained. Rex's eyes narrowed and his frown deepened.

 _Why haven't I noticed? Is she dangerous to us? To Luke?_ Rex fisted his hand on the counter.

"How long has this been going on?" He demanded.

"Since she arrived, with growing frequency."

"You've been watching her?" Rex accused.

Walli just stood silent and impassive in the doorway.

 _Of course he has,_ Rex admonished himself, _he watches everyone!_

"I want to know everything you've seen and anything— _anything_ —remotely dangerous!"

"Is this an official request, sir?" Walli asked.

"No," Rex shook his head, _not yet._ "I'm leaving to make my report to the Emperor tomorrow morning. Have it ready by the time I return and…" Rex paused.

"I won't tell the others, sir." Walli said without prompting.

"Thank you, _vod_." Rex nodded to his brother.

"You have another reason for protecting the child," Walli said. It wasn't a question and, as usual, he didn't use Luke's name, as if he didn't trust it really was the child's name.

It was Rex's turn not to respond. Walli just turned silently without a word of parting and disappeared into the squad's quarters. Rex repressed a shiver. Sometimes Walli's uncanny observations were creepy, or it was just the man's unapologetic social ineptitude.

Rex shook his head and picked up his cup of caf again. He sat back down at the little table and lifted his datapad again. He needed to prepare for the briefing he'd have to give tomorrow and momentarily forget all of Nia's strange behavior. He wasn't sure how much the Emperor could get inside of his mind, but he would take whatever precautions he could. Rex sipped his caf and nearly choaked. He spat it back into the cup.

"What the-?" He glared at the cup of sickeningly sweet muck. Nia had apparently put two heaping spoons of sugar in both cups. "Nasty," Rex growled and got up to pour out the ruined caf. He would add that to the list of dangerous behaviors to watch out for when Walli delivered his report.

.

Author's Note: YAY for Obi-Wan! Satine finally gets her happy ending. And something's wrong with Nia…. Any guesses? In PartII we're back on TripZip with Dar for a heart to heart 'chat'. Bear with me, the action _is_ coming.

So at one point while I was editing this my 20 year old cat (who's almost as old as I am) walked across my keyboard and accidentally changed compassionate to com _paw_ ssionate. Cats. (insert eye roll here.) Hope you liked the chapter. -Ember


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5: Journeys Home: Part II: Moonshine**

.

Rex was assigned temporary quarters in the ARCA Company Barracks again while he delivered his report to the Emperor. His transport with a returning company of the 212th back to the suburb district and Luke's apartment wasn't due to pick him up until the early hours of morning. Rex ambled around the sparsely populated compound after he presented his report. He told himself it was just to kill time but he was really looking for the Omega Squad Commandos, Niner more than Darman. He thought Niner might be able to shed some light on Fives' confused last words. Rex hadn't shared them with Coric yet, afraid the old medic might decide his frequent drug use was causing lasting damage.

Most of the Commando Squads were deployed around the Galaxy, leaving a lot of empty bunks. It was unlikely that he'd catch Omega during their infrequent downtime. So he was surprised to see Darman. Rex had followed the sound of footsteps behind one of the long barracks buildings against the security wall. Darman was pacing with his helmet in his hands, turning it over and over. His boots pounded the durracrete ground, obscuring his murmurings but not their agitated tone. Rex saw tension in his brother's shoulders, the deep frown lines on his face, the slight tremble in his hands and erratic darting gaze. It was like looking in a mirror. Darman was so distracted by his own thoughts he didn't notice Rex come around the corner behind a row of parked speeders.

In the blink of an eye, Darman snapped. He dropped threw his helmet on the ground and in one fluid movement of white plastoid punched the building. His gauntlet made a heavy painful sounding _thud_ against the siding. Dar stared at his gauntleted fist for a moment then sighed, deflated by the act of sheer violence. He slumped, turning around to fall against the wall and slide down to sit at its base.

Rex remained half hidden where he was to give his brother a minute to collect himself. Darman didn't move in direct contrast to his previous restless behavior. Rex stepped out into full view and strode as casually as he could down the alley between the wall and the building.

" _Gar'gala, ner vod?"_ Rex said. _Let me buy you a drink, brother?_

Darman looked up sharply, anger still simmering just behind his eyes.

"Rex." He acknowledged the Captain.

"Darman." Rex replied in the same neutral tone. Darman didn't show any signs of moving, so Rex held out his hand to help his brother up.

"Why?" Darman asked.

"Because you look like you could use it and someone once did the same for me," Rex replied and grabbed his brother's upper arm, dragging the commando up. His back protested the movement and he never would have been able to lift Darman if the commando hadn't stood up on his own.

"Come on. I know a place," Rex assured his brother. Darman just followed docilely.

.

During his time in Jaina's guard Rex had followed rumors into the lower city, to a dingy building with warped walls that looked nearly crushed by the structures build overtop of it. A carved, wooden sign depicting a cyborg with a red light set in his mechanical eye swung over the dark doorway. Half-Man's Bar was a hole-in-the-wall smashed between two brightly lit strip clubs, often the backdrop to the waiting lines stretching from the garishly decorated establishments. But it was one of the few places two armored clones could get a drink without raising eyebrows or questions.

Rex and Darman pushed easily through the jostling crowd in front of the bar waiting to be admitted into the loud, strobing club down the street. As soon as the civilians saw the T-shaped visors at the other end of the arms pushing them, they got motivated to move very quickly. Trooper armor did come in handy once in a while.

Inside the Half-Man's Bar it was dark and dusty. Unidentified smoke hung in the air and shrouded the patrons. Rex walked straight to the bar and Darman followed with a wary glance around in his HUD. The place reminded him of Qibbu's Hut in all the wrong ways. Rex pulled off his helmet as he elbowed himself a place at the bar.

"Look after this, will you?" he said to the bartender, passing it over the counter. The bartender was clearly the "half-man" who owned the bar. Darman had to look twice at the scarred man before he saw his own face in the ruins of his brother's. The Half-Man's head was burned clean of hair from his scalp to his eyebrows. One eye was just a hollow covered by pitted scar tissue and the other was a swiveling, mechanical, red light. His right arm was a high-end prosthetic, maybe even supplied by the GAR, but when he walked there was the tell-tale _thump_ of a peg-leg. In a way all clones were half-men as far as the law was concerned, no rights and no choices. Darman wondered if the man was good humored enough about his own situation to realize the double meaning of the name.

Rex knocked on Darman's chest-plate.

"Bucket," he said and pointed to the bartender. Reluctantly Darman handed over his helmet. Without the flitters he could smell the stale aroma of the bar. It was at least free of the distinctive smell of Hutt slime that permeated Qibbu's questionable establishment.

"Thought you'd kicked it," the Half-Man said to Rex as he took both helmets and stowed them under the bar.

"Not yet," Rex replied and accepted a dark, unlabeled bottle with two glasses stacked on the neck. The Captain led Darman to a small table that looked as dirty as the shadowed floor. He poured out two generous cups and slid one to the commando.

Darman just looked at the drink for a moment.

"Don't worry, Dul gives me the clean glasses," Rex said and drank down the hazy bluish spirits like man dying of thirst.

"How did he get here?" Darman asked.

"Not all clones get an all expenses paid vacation on Kamino when their usefulness runs out. Some find their own way in the galaxy."

Darman frowned, thinking of Fi. Without the help of Kal, Besany, Obrim and many others he never would have stood a chance. How did someone as broken as Dul even make it to the outside alone, much less survive? Darman was about to ask when he realized that he didn't really care. Dul was just one more brother who had given up and deserted his duty. Darman knew a lot of them by now.

"What are we drinking to?" He asked instead, sat down, and reached for his glass. He was expecting Rex to say 'brothers' or 'Oya Manda' or even 'the Empire.'

"The women we loved who died for stupid reasons."

Darman wasn't expecting that. Suddenly he was remembering Etain. He could see her as clearly in his mind as if she was standing right in front of him, her soft brown hair and green eyes shining with a smile and Kad in her arms, little chubby hands gripping her Jedi tunic.

Darman picked up the glass, not caring if it was clean or not, and downed it all. He nearly choked.

Rex chuckled and refilled the glass while Dar swallowed bile.

"That's nasty," Darman hissed.

"Yeah, but always free to brothers like us," Rex said as he refilled his own cup.

"So Niner told you."

"He wanted my perspective."

"What perspective is that?"

"We're not as different as you might think, _ner vod_ ," Rex said softly, his voice nearly lost in the din of the bar. Darman's brow furrowed as he realized Rex had said 'we': 'the women _we_ loved…'

"Who was she?"

"You want to talk about _your_ girl?" Rex shot back.

"Niner told you my story," Darman said with a hint of bitterness toward his commando brother in his voice.

"Sorry for you," Rex replied sarcastically. Darman knew it was just defensive anger, anger to hide pain. He was familiar with that.

Darman frowned and looked out onto the bar of shifting dark shadows. He saw at least three deals being made, he couldn't always tell on what. At least two of the patrons were hard-core drug dealers and another was packing a verpine rifle as nice as Kal's, a weapon good for only one unsavory business.

"You heard about DeepSec?" Rex asked suddenly.

"Yeah," Darman said after a moment of thought, confused by the rapid shift in topic.

"You wanted to know about her, that's what happened," Rex said simply.

"Oh," Darman said. _Is being struck down quickly better than being burned alive in a pit?_ He wondered. It seemed better from where he was sitting. At least Etain hadn't suffered long. Still a morbid curiosity drove him to ask, "What did she do to end up in there?"

"Guilty by association," Rex explained cryptically.

"She was a Jedi?"

"Yeah, she was... a long time ago. She had nothing to do with the council's treason, but she died for it."

"Like Etain," Darman muttered, "She shouldn't have died. She was so close to leaving."

"Leaving Coruscant?"

"All of it: the Jedi, the army, the Republic-Empire, whatever it calls itself! She was going home with _me_ to Kad. We were going to be a real family, like it always should have been."

"Kad?"

"My son." Darman's voice softened around the word.

"Shab. Niner didn't mention that," Rex shook his head, an unfamiliar pang of jealousy stabbed him. He wasn't sure if he was jealous of Darman's kid or the child's father.

"Niner doesn't understand," Darman growled, "about Kad and what I'm doing."

"Where is your son now?" Rex asked.

"Safe with some of my brothers and my Buir," Darman said his voice soft again, then it became rough and angry once more. "Or I thought he was. But they have kriffing Jedi there, with _my son._ "

"What are they going to do to your son? They're as much fugitives from the Empire as deserters, more so even."

"It's more complicated than that! Kad is… special, like Etain."

"He's… Oh! And you think the Jedi will try to..." Rex trailed off. It wasn't just the Jedi who posed a threat to the force-sensitive, half-Jango child. He knew very well that the Empire would steal the child just as quickly.

"…take him away. That's what they do!" Darman finished Rex's sentence oblivious of where the Captain's thoughts were going.

"You don't trust your _aliit_ to protect him?"

"It isn't about trusting them _,_ it's about _not_ trusting the Jedi."

"His mother was a Jedi and you married her." Rex pointed out and got a blood freezing glare from Darman.

"Etain was different."

"Lots of Jedi were different. I knew them. I fought with them! I trusted by back to those Jedi and they trusted me with theirs." _And I betrayed them,_ Rex thought but didn't say.

"Trusted you, hah!" Darman's laugh cut Rex painfully, as if he was laughing in _her_ face as realization of Rex's betrayal dawned in her bright blue eyes.

 _"_ _Ner cyare ru'ruusaanii hukaat'kama ratiin!" My girl always trusted her back to me!_

"Jedi don't trust and they don't have comrades. The Jedi were all corrupt and too arrogant to see it past their own inflated egos. They were child-stealing slavers who masqueraded as peacekeepers in a war. They looked down on anything that wasn't Force-sensitive as a lower life form and we were just expendable flesh-droids to them!"

"The council was full of no good _hu'tuune_ , I agree. They had no business fighting the war in the first place. But lots of Jedi didn't have a choice! They did what the council told them. How is that any different from us? We follow orders too and we don't question them. If we did, a lot more of the Jedi would be alive right now."

"We're soldiers."

"And the Order turned itself into an army because the Republic needed to fight a war. We became executioners because the Empire needed to remove the threat of the Jedi! You go where you're told and you kill who they tell you to, no questions." Rex saw that the words didn't cut Darman nearly as hard as they cut him.

"I'm making the galaxy safer. We're better off without their kind! The Jedi are a disease. They have to be whipped out completely or what was any of it worth? What did our brother's die for if it we don't finish the job? That's why I'm still here."

 _What did my brothers die for?_ Rex wondered. He thought suddenly of Dogma and Slick. Slick just wanted a way out. Dogma wanted justice for his brothers. Neither of them died to eliminate the Jedi. "Still?" He asked Darman ruefully. "Like any of us have a choice."

"I do. I don't have to be here. I don't have to do this. I don't just follow orders because I'm given them. I'm here because this is where I do the most good for my family—for Kad. When the Jedi are dead and gone, I'll go home."

"You have a home and a son waiting for you and you're still here?" Rex asked incredulous.

"I have to protect him and the Empire lets me do that." Darman was looking away from Rex at something in the distance as he said the words. His assurance sounded artificial.

"How will killing off a few Force sensitive renegades protect Kad?" Rex demanded.

"I won't let them take my son away like they took my wife."

"The only person who took your wife away was the man who ordered her death!"

"The Jedi killed her when they betrayed the Republic. She never wanted to be a part of that and they made her a traitor anyway!"

"Blaming them just means you don't have to face the truth: The Empire killed your wife and you couldn't protect her."

"The Jedi killed her."

"Killing every Force-sensative you can get your hands on won't change that. It won't bring back your son's mother, it's just going to get his father killed for something equally _jare'la_!"

"I'm protecting my son! Protecting him from being turned into one of _them!_ That's what a father does!"

"You aren't protecting him from becoming a Jedi, you don't even know _what_ he's becoming. The only way to keep him from being something you hate is to teach him yourself. A father teaches his son! The only thing you're teaching your kid is that he's alone and his father is too scared to show his face, just an _osi'yaim Hu'tuun!"_

Darman snapped at the last word, the harshest word for coward a Mando knew. He hooked one hand on the neck of Rex's chest plate and yanked the Captain into his oncoming fist. Rex crumbled to the floor, dragging the bottle off the table, his glass rolling down to follow it, and his chair tumbling backwards with a loud clattering sound. Darman stood over the crumpled man on the floor.

"Say it again!" He growled.

"You're a no good, useless coward and you know it!" Rex said, words slurred and painful but his gaze was steady as he looked back up at his brother. Darman's face was contorted in blind rage, the kind of rage that made men stupid. Rex struggled to his feet, his labored breathing loud in the suddenly silent bar. "Hit me again, _ner_ _vod_ , but it won't make you feel any better. Won't change the truth." Rex spit blood on the floor. Darman was shaking with anger but he very deliberately turned away to leave.

Maybe Rex was _jare'la_ too because he wasn't finished. The words were out of his mouth before he'd consciously decided to say them. As if he needed more pain in his life.

"You wouldn't even recognize your son if you saw him, would you?" Rex said in a quiet voice that seemed amplified by the crowded smoky room.

Darman turned with a wordless roar and grabbed Rex by his armor, throwing him bodily into the table. Rex felt wood cracking against his ribs. His back was one screaming mass of agony already. His head hit the solid floor painfully. A boot swung out and caught him in the stomach. The crunch of plastoid rang in the silence. Rex half expected a blaster bolt to cut across his vision. _Maybe oblivion wouldn't be so bad,_ he thought through the pain and inebriated haze.

Heavy footsteps pounded past him then a door opened and closed a few moments afterward. Whispers erupted around Rex, but, dizzy and head spinning with pain, he couldn't make out any words. The distinctive _clunk,_ _shuffle, clunk, shuffle_ of Dul's footsteps approached Rex's head.

"I don't think my strongest spirits are gonna take the edge off of that one, _vod_." Dul said.

Rex choked when he tried to speak and coughed. The action felt like being stabbed in the back and his guts spilling out of his abdomen at the same time. Shakily Rex rolled over onto his knees. "Next time, you can take on the Commando and I'll crack jokes."

"Just a statement of fact."

"Thanks," Rex said and looked around at the mess he and Darman had made. "I'll pay you back for… this." He waved at the wreckage. The motion made his shoulder protest. _I must have twisted it at some point or fallen on it wrong,_ he thought.

"Don't worry about it." Dul said, righting a chair and sitting down on it. Rex noticed his helmet in the bartender's hands, a subtle nod that he'd out stayed his welcome. Dul eased out his peg leg and leveled Rex with his red, one-eyed stare. "Always lookin' after your men, aren't you?"

"If this is what I get, I think I'll retire," Rex replied. "Start looking after myself."

"No you wont." Dul gave a short, harsh guffaw. "You were never a soldier, Rex. You're a protector."

His words sounded too much like _hers: '_ you were meant to protect people.'

 _'_ Protect people'; _yeah_ — _everyone but you,_ Rex thought. Slowly, painfully he got to his feet. Dul handed over his bucket.

"Take care of yourself, _vod_ ," Dul said.

" _K'oyacyi_ ," Rex gave the same parting in Mando'a. He limped out of the Half-Man's Bar and back into the dark gloomy under city. He wondered how he'd explain the bruises to Coric when he returned. Then he had to wonder if Coric would even ask. Rex sighed and started limping toward the barracks. He could at least catch a few hours of sleep before his transport arrived.

.

Rex was strapping on his utility belt and missing the familiar weight of his _kama_ when the door buzzed. He limped over, his bruises even more painful after a few hours laying on a hard bunk. He grumbled under his breath about worthless shinnies keeping him from his transport and palmed the door controls.

"Are you imperial trooper ai-tee seven five six seven?" A tall astromech droid asked him the moment the door opened. A human stood behind him with a data pad scrolling through the information. They didn't look official in any capacity.

"We have a delivery."

"What kind of a delivery?" Rex asked, eyes narrowed. Delivery in 501st lingo meant an unexpected explosive gift on the enemy's doorstep. He had every reason to be wary of two strangers, even in the ARCA barracks.

"From your Commando buddies," the man said. The droid extended one manipulator arm from a closed compartment and held out a normal looking comm link.

"What's this?" Rex asked. _And why would Niner and Darman send it to me this way?_ He wondered. He hadn't been expecting to hear from either of them soon—if ever.

"It's secure, frequency is plugged in, but tell your buddies it was a rush job, only good for one call," the man said. He turned to walk away without looking up from his datapad. The droid dropped the device in Rex's hand and rolled along after its owner.

"One call to where?" Rex asked them.

"Some place called Keerimohroot," the man replied over his shoulder. They turned a corner and disappeared. Rex was left holding the comm link and decoding the Mando'a name.

Keer was probably _kyr_ meaning end or final and mohroot was _morut_ meaning haven or strong hold. _Kyrimorut_ was a last haven or the final stronghold, a safe retreat, somewhere to go when things went bad… Rex looked down at the comm link in his hands. If Niner was giving him a way of contacting their safe haven outside of the Empire it must mean that he wouldn't be around Triple Zero to talk to Rex anymore. Darman and Niner had left Coruscant. _He's going back to Kad._

The corners of Rex's lips turned up. He was glad to know at least a few brothers were finding lives outside of the army even if he couldn't. He'd given up his chances over and over. The first time had been with Cut. He'd told the farmer and father his family was elsewhere, with the army. That was still true, but now it was more than that. Rex had an obligation to more than just his brothers, he had an obligation to a child—just like Cut and Darman.

Rex pocketed the comm and headed for his transport back to the silent apartment, back to Nia's strange behavior, Corics tense silences, and Luke.

.

Author's Note: Dul, the bartender's name, means half in Mando'a. _Jare'la_ is a hard word to translate. It means recklessly, or oblivious of danger, or suicidal. I comes from _jare_ which means death-wish or kamikaze. It's generally an insulting or derogatory description in Mando'a. (As opposed to the heroic or self-sacrificing connotation kamikaze sometimes has.) It kind of makes sense to me why they'd think that way. Someone reckless and oblivious to danger isn't going to last long so they won't be around to keep fighting. To a culture of warriors that doesn't make them very valuable and all Mandalorian insults seem to be about being useless in their culture (ie. messy, undisciplined, cowardly, etc.).

If you're interested in seeing more of Darman or the Kyrimorut crew just let me know with a review or something. I have pieces I can write for different characters there. -Em


	6. Chapter 6

Author's Note: Here's a happy chapter! Or… mostly happy (Enjoy it while you can). It's a bonus for any Republic Commando fans or ObiTine fans, little AniPadme. The chapter title is Mando'a- it means a perfectly bittersweet moment, celebration while mourning. It's also a DOUBLE CHAPTER! Because I don't really see this as a chapter. It doesn't move the story along very much, at least not for Rex and Ahsoka. Hope you enjoy. -Ember

.

 **Chapter 6: Aay'han**

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Kal could see Bardan's hands were white knuckled on the controls of the Aggressor as the Mandalorian Countryside sped past outside. The unexpected arrival of Omega Squad's last defectors on Mandalore and all the unknowns that surrounded them were making everyone tense in what should have been a joyous situation.

Kad had sensed their arrival first, early that morning, dropping his toys and looking around the _karyai_ making soft whining noises and short sobs. Even in Laseema's arms the boy had been restless and inconsolable, looking for something he knew was near yet couldn't find. Bardan had been hesitant to come, but accepted that his abilities might be necessary. They didn't know how Darman would react to coming home. They'd given up trying to predict him after their last denied 'rescue' attempt. Mij sat behind Kal in the Aggressor, re-checking the contents of the large med-kit in his lap. A'den was the last member of the retrieval squad. He was very still and silent, watching the miles tick by as they neared Keldabe, where Darman and Niner were waiting.

"Don't worry _Bard'ika_ ," Kal said softly, "They're coming home, that's what's important."

"I know _buir_ ," Bardan said. "I just…" He shook his head and trialed off.

"This another one of those jedi-senses?" Kal asked.

"No… I don't know… Maybe it is." Bardan kept his eyes firmly on the monotonous countryside of yellow grass and jagged rocks.

"What ever it is, we'll sort it," A'den cut in. "Darman isn't leaving again." His words held a ring of finality and a promise of action. Kal looked back at his son's impassive expression. The easygoing and fun-loving Null ARC was all business today. The old sergeant caught Mij's wary looks between the three Skiratas, but wisely the old doctor kept his opinions to himself. Kal turned back to the viewports and tried not to fidget as the Aggressor ate up the miles with alarming speed. For once he was happy Bardan favored fast crates and piloted like a maniac.

Keldabe loomed in view on it's fortified hilltop in record time. Led by some sixth sense Bardan turned the Aggressor east into a twisting valley and followed it into the shadow of the bounding ridges. There patches of trees grew densely in sheltered gullies. Bardan made a beeline for a small coppice. As he circled above it Kal saw the vividly violet ship sheltered there. It was an expensive looking machine with sleek lines and flashy logos—something totally foreign to a backwater like Mandalore but perfectly suited to the eclectic skylanes of Coruscant. Bardan put the Aggressor down a little ways off.

Niner was standing near the edge of the trees with his white Stormtrooper helmet in his hands, staring down at it. Darman was sitting on the extended boarding ramp of the ship with a tangle of wires and explosive dets in his nimble hands. As Bardan approached he saw the soles of Darman's boots were stained red. Darman paused his untangling when Kal entered the grove, sitting a little taller and clenching his jaw, bracing for a reprimand that didn't come.

" _Ad'ika,_ " Kal said to his returning son. He opened his mouth to go on, but emotions trapped the words in his throat. His eyes glassed over with tears, and he struggled to swallow them back. " _Olarom yaim." Welcome home._

Darman just nodded and looked down at the wires in his hands.

" _Kad'ika_ has missed you," Kal said softly, putting a hand on the young father's armored shoulder.

"How is he?" Darman finally spoke, his voice tight and clipped.

"Looking forward to seeing you," Kal replied. "He knew you'd arrived before you even called. He's getting as good as _Bard'ika_ at finding people."

Darman's eyes widened and snapped up to his father. His nostrils flared in anger for a moment and his hands shook. Bardan could feel paternal protectiveness, raw anger, fear and a deep well of grief around Darman.

"Don't worry son, he's fine," Kal tried to assure Darman. "No Jedi are gonna snatch him up while we're around."

Darman's brow furrowed and he looked back down at his work, frowning. "I'll feel better when I can see him myself," the Commando said.

"I know you will, son." Kal patted Dar's shoulder comfortingly. He turned away to greet his last returning son.

Niner was still standing apart from the others, looking down at his helmet. Dirty red mud was clinging to his boots where dust had mixed with the liquid. To Bardan, he felt nearly as troubled as Darman in the Force. Dark guilt and uncertainty nearly overshadowed by oily doubts swirled around Niner. Bardan flashed Kal a meaningful look and touched his father gently with the Force in silent communication. Kal felt Bardan's fears for his brother and nodded. Darman hadn't been the only one trapped behind enemy lines and it had taken a toll on both Commandos.

"Any injuries?" Mij asked Darman, readjusting the strap of the med-kit.

"No," Darman replied darkly. "He's dead."

"Who?" Bardan asked anxious. He scrambled to think who's blood it might be on Darman's boots.

"Rede."

"Who's Rede?" Mij asked.

"The centax clone in our squad," Darman didn't even look up from the dets. "He was with us… we even thought he wanted to get out… Niner shot him."

" _Shab_ ," Bardan hissed. "Why did Niner...?"

"Rede tried to betray us, turn us over as deserters."

" _Shab!"_ It was all Bardan could think to say. Niner had shot a brother—worse, a member of his own squad. They all remembered how badly it had torn up Darman to know he'd killed _vode_ and he hadn't know them personally. Darman still said the remembrance for Moz and Olun every nigh. Rede was a member of their team even if he wasn't as close to them as Atin or Fi; it made things different and many times worse.

"Rede didn't even seem like himself—didn't try to hide it when he opened the comm back to HQ." Darman explained as he rigged the ship for it's final take off. "He actually pulled his weapon on me. Maybe I'd be dead if Niner hadn't been faster."

A'den walked up to the boarding ramp silently and looked at the grisly scene in the small cockpit. A high-velocity plasma-bolt did a catastrophic amount of damage at close range. From the slick red color of the back wall it appeared Rede hadn't been wearing his helmet either.

"Why did you bring him?" the Null demanded. "If you didn't trust him he had no place at Kyrimorut."

"We made a mistake," Darman growled lowly. Commando's weren't supposed to make mistakes. They were supposed to be perfect. Anything less than perfection was death. All those misconceptions that the war had destroyed still rattled around in Darman's head.

"No, your mistake was not getting out when we came for you the _first_ time."

"I _fracked_ up. I know!" Darman snapped back. "I should never have been on that bridge, neither should Niner. Then we'd have been here with everyone else. I would have seen her again… just once, to say goodbye."

"None of us got to say goodbye!" Bardan said softly.

"What? You didn't bring her home?"

"Ordo left her body with Jaller Obrim. Ny was supposed to smuggle her out of Coruscant, but Obrim and his family disappeared that night."

"What are you talking about? He was reassigned to Andara. We asked at CSF."

"That's a load of _osik_ ," A'den said. "They aren't on Andara—never were!"

The news of the Obrims' death hit like a physical weight on Darman's shoulders, hunching him over.

 _"_ _Chakaare_ ," Darman hissed, his hands fisted on the white leg-plates of his armor. "They couldn't even leave me her body. I've got nothing left of her!"

"You've got Kad!" A'den said, his voice deep and tinged with emotions that Bardan didn't quite understand. For a moment he felt bitter longing and resentment well up in the dizzyingly fast tornado that was A'den in the Force. Then the moment passed. "You're a father now, like it or not. Start acting like one."

The Nulls were blunt and borderline inconsiderate at the best of times, but this time it seemed to be was Darman needed. Darman sat up straighter and his fists relaxed, he calmly went back to arranging the wires in his lap. A'den nodded at his brother's fortified attitude. Wordlessly the Null turned away and went after his father. Niner had sunk to his knees in the dirt with Kal couched beside him. Bardan tore his eyes away from Niner; he trusted his _buir_ to sort that out.

"There's something else," Bardan said and reached into the pack on the back of his utility belt. The two cylindrical handles clinked together and gleamed dully, still smudged with small feminine fingerprints. Darman just stared at Etain's lightsabers for a moment in stunned silence. A flash of raw pain crossed his face before it was shoved away and covered up with anger.

"I don't want those!" Darman growled. "They're the reason she's dead."

"They're also the reason she's alive," Bardan said, but he could tell Darman wasn't in a mood to be reasoned with. "It's ok. I thought Kad might want them when he's older."

"No!" Darman snapped, repulsed by the idea of his son wielding a Jedi weapon.

"As a reminder of her," Bardan clarified. "I'll take the crystals out if you want."

"Kad isn't—"

"He's not a Jedi. I know. He'll be _mando'ad_. Etain wanted that and no one is trying to make him anything else."

"What about the kriffing Jedi _you_ brought to his home?" Darman demanded. Bardan tried to ignore the accusation thrown at _him_ personally but it was hard. The words stung. Even after being adopted by Kal he was separated from the family by his abilities. The Force would always single him out while he was on Mandalore, make him foreign, _aruetyc_.

"Zey agreed to the memory wipe. He doesn't even remember Kad or Kyrimorut. We delivered him and Maze to Altis three days ago."

"Then the Jedi are gone?"

"Scout and Kina Ha asked to stay."

"Who?"

Mij answered this time: "Scout's a child—just another orphan created by war. Kina Ha is harmless. She was never part of the war and doesn't want anything to do with the Empire now."

"She's promised not to interfere with Kad. She knows what happened to the last Kaminoan at Kyrimorut."

"A Kaminoan Jedi?" Darman was momentarily shocked out of his anger.

"She's… different," Bardan said inadequately.

"She's also agreed to lend us her DNA to help us research an aging cure. The aiwa-bait is alright." Mij defended Kina Ha with a neutral tone and a casual shrug of his shoulders that didn't betray how adamantly he had argued to allow the two Jedi to stay.

"I still don't want her around Kad."

"She spends most of her time meditating anyway," Mij explained. "I don't think you'll have to worry about that."

Darman frowned but silently went back to the finishing touches on his explosive project. A moment later he snapped a panel shut and stood up, brushing off his hands.

"Done," he said and backed away from the ship.

"Let's get you home to _Kad-ika_ then," Mij said, hoisting his med kit higher on his shoulder. They all cast looks toward Niner and watched as A'den dragged the Omega sergeant up by his armpit. He pounded a fist on Niner's chest-plate and the other man jumped violently. Together Kal and A'den led Niner out of the grove. The Aggressor was packed tight with six armored men. Mij opted to sit in the back foldout seats with Niner in case the soldier needed a stim or a sedative. He seemed to be teetering on shock at the moment, but he was at least calm. Darman sat up front, his eyes peeled for the first glimpse of Kyrimorut.

All of Omega Squad was waiting outside when the Aggressor touched down. Laseema stood at the front of the group with Kad in her arms. The child was alert and attentive. He could feel excitement and trepidation all around him. When Darman stepped down off the boarding ramp, he cried out happily and pumped his chubby, little arms on Laseema's shoulder.

"Dada!" He babbled. "Dada!"

Darman froze for a moment and stared into his son's identical eyes. Then he ran across the packed dirt between them. It didn't mater that he was wearing stormtrooper armor or that his boots were stained red, he was back with his son. Kad clung to his father, unbothered by the tears falling on his head.

Omega squad closed in around them. Darman grinned at seeing Fi back to his joking, confident self. Atin looked calm and content with one arm around Laseema and the other on Darman's shoulder. Corr had an armor-smashing hug for Niner that pulled the sergeant out of his shock. For the first time all the members of Omega Squad were together in one place.

The feast was impromptu, a mixture of leftovers and quickly prepared dishes, but there was no comparison to the last time they'd prepared for Darman and Niner's intended return. The atmosphere was jovial and victorious. The crowded Karyai was packed shoulder to shoulder with armored bodies and conversations almost had to be shouted. Even above it all a song would start up—usually about drinking or fighting—and end it raucous laughter.

Etain's absence hung over the family as it always would but it didn't press down with quite so much pressure that night. Mird was happy to run around between chair legs and boots to beg scraps from any hand he could slobber on. Even Vau looked down right cheerful, compared to his usual sullen demeanor.

As the night wound down Kal brought his bottle of _tihaar_ over to Vau and fell into a chair by the old, black-armored man. Kad was asleep in his father's arms, sucking his thumb happily. Corr was amiably helping Jilka to clear the remains of dinner, piling dishes into a teetering tower to impress her. Fi and Atin sat on either side of Niner, carefully keeping his attention occupied even as their brother was yawning himself to sleep.

"Delta next, _vod_ ," Kal said, pouring himself a glass of the clear alcohol. The usual frown lines of Vau's face returned as all humor and good cheer left him instantly.

"What makes you think they want out?" He asked, a noncommittal response.

"Before Kashyyyk I wouldn't have questioned it. You raised those boys loyal. Now…" Kal shook his head, "I think they might be more open minded."

"We'll see." Vau said and frowned, but his eyes were bright. "They deserve the choice."

"All our boys do." Kal agreed.

.

It was the first night that Anakin finally saw what his wife had seen at first glance in the old farmhouse. The garden behind the house was aglow with small candles hanging from the fruit trees. The air was fragrant with the smell of the ripe red purple globes hanging from the branches and the hearty aroma of the roast meal spread on the Alderani patterned tablecloth. Most of the food was from the garden Satine had slaved over and she held a bouquet of bright pink flowers Obi-Wan had coaxed to bloom with his gentle Force touch. The setting sun had turned the sky into a riot of colors. Amid all of it Satine's white dress looked very plain.

Satine and Obi-Wan stood hand in hand with Padme at her friend's right and Anakin at his master's left. Ahsoka held Leia, who was quiet and solemn for the important moment. The vows were simple and soft, for the couple alone in Mandalorian tradition. Satine spoke them first in her native tongue. Obi-Wan repeated them in Basic.

"Ti aliit olar sirb'an: Mhi katro'ran solus tome, mhi katro'ran solus dar tome, mhi me'dino'ren briikase, mhi me'dino'ren trikar, mhi cabo'ran, mhi ba'juro'ren cabur."

"Before our family I vow: we will be united whether we are together or apart, we will share our joys and share our sadness, we will protect our family, and we will teach our family to be protectors."

The couple smiled at each other, Satine's eyes swimming. Obi-Wan's expression was not the emotionless peace and assurance of a Jedi of the Order but peaceful contentment and acceptance of a man with a purpose. Anakin wondered if he had looked like that standing on the terrace of Varikino with Padme. He certainly couldn't remember feeling that peaceful. He'd been excited, anxious, hopeful, fearful, even conflicted… He'd known the marriage was against the Jedi code and would have to be kept secret, perhaps forever.

From his place beside Obi-Wan he looked over at Padme. She was dressed in cream and light green, holding Satine's bouquet. Her hair was arranged simply on the back of her neck, nothing like the elaborate styles of her reign or time as a senator but to him, she was still beautiful.

Padme caught his eye and smiled back with open adoration and love. He sighed, feeling her affection touching him in the Force, surrounding and embracing him. That was contentment, right at that moment. Despite the rustic setting he could have been back on Naboo at Varikino. That was the moment he agreed: the name, Varikino Minor, did seem fitting.

It was a wonderful night full of good food and good company. The next day would come with work around the house and the farm, the threats of the Empire and Palpatine still hung heavy over them and Luke's absence would weight on the broken family again but for one night the inhabitants of Varikino Minor Farm were happy. Each of them had lost part of their family. Satine had nothing to remember her sister or parents by only her memories of them. Padme could never contact her family while the threat of the Emipre hung over her. They would have to live with questions of their youngest daughter's fate just as she and her husband lived with the unknown fate of her son. Anakin, Obi-Wan and Ahsoka had lost their community of fellow Jedi, friends and mentors taken by the war or the Purge that followed. Now they clung to what they had left: their family and their memories.

.

Author's Note: I made up most of vows that Satine and Obi-Wan said. They're a variation/expansion on the mandalorian traditional vow which is shorter. It goes: _Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verd_ – We are one together, we are one apart, we share all, we raise warriors. I didn't think that Satine, being a New Mandalorian pacifist and from Kalevala (nearby but not actually Mandalore) would have _all_ the same traditions as someone like Kal, a True Mandalorian traditionalist.

A note on Satine's Mando'a. What I've used here is a mash up of Karen Traviss's mando'a and the fannon version which includes conjugations. The Clone Wars series uses the fannon version of Mando'a in the episode "The Mandalore Plot". The wiiki claims that "colloquially" conjugation was dropped, so for common speakers like Kal and the Kyrimorut aliit it makes sense for them to speak that way. Satine is a highly educated Mandalorian from almost a completely different culture. She wouldn't speak the same version of Mando'a though they would be mutually understood. Thus the version I have used here: mainly KT vocabulary and Fannon conjugation rules.

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	7. Chapter 7

Author's Note: Double Chapter! The last one was happy so of course this one is... um... not. I'm interested to hear what you think of this chapter.

 **.**

 **Chapter 7: Guardians**

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Rex had decided he no longer cared if Coric asked about the bruises, he needed the pain killers. _Note to self: Don't piss of Commandos,_ he thought ruefully as he limped down the hall, his boot sliding across the expensive carpet with every limping step. _Also, Su'ratiin and Kaden go easy on you._ He punched in his code at the door when the panel opened.

"Welcome back, Captain," Ven greeted him, opening their helmet com channel. "So are the girls prettier in the political sector or do all the holo dramas lie to me?"

"They lie," Rex said and walked inside.

"Kark! What happened to you?" Ven asked, watching the way the Captain moved.

"Had drinks with an old friend," Rex replied.

"Up for another round?" Walli asked, uncertainly. Rex straightened up at the strange tone from the trooper. He noticed on his HUD that Walli was on a closed channel, his words were only for Rex.

"Why?" Rex asked, on the same private circuit.

"You should talk to Coric," was all Walli said. Rex frowned behind his visor. He limped down the steps of the landing and across the large main room as fast as he could. He glanced once at Nia, sitting on the sofa with Luke. Her expression was blank as always but her eyes were strangely red, as if she'd been crying again. Rex shoved that thought away for later and shuffled through the kitchen. Su'ratiin and Kaden had their riffles disassembled on the table, going over them meticulously. Fox was in his bunk with a book. He looked up when Rex entered and his gaze lingered on the dragging leg with open disapproval. Rex growled in the privacy of his helmet at the former-commander. He opened the door to the last room Coric could be in, Rex's private office.

The small windowless room was dark and orderly, just as Rex had left it but for the helmet on his desk. Coric was sitting against one wall, legs spread slightly and wrists on his knees, a blaster held loosely in his grip. He lifted his head when Rex opened the door and started shaking. The light from the doorway threw his face into sharp relief for a moment. His expression froze Rex in place.

"Sorry Captain," Coric said softly. Rex jumped into action, reaching out and stepping forward, all his own pain forgotten in an instant. In a flash Coric lifted the blaster and pulled the trigger.

 _Bzaap!_

Rex heard heavy breathing, in and out, in and out, panting. Dimly he was aware of footsteps pounding on the floor and two armored bodies filling the space behind him. Kaden and Su'ratiin had their hold-out blasters raised and were sweeping the office like it were a training simulation.

 _Why?_ Rex wondered, _there are no enemies here just me and…_

Coric had fallen sideways down the wall, his arms limp at his sides and his legs splayed awkwardly. A pool of dark liquid surrounded his head and spread slowly outward as it ate up floor. A fine red mist hung in the office and coated everything around the fallen trooper. The blaster smoked faintly and the sulfuric stench of discharged plasma filtered slowly into Rex's helmet.

People were talking.

"What the frak happened?" Kaden asked.

"Oh, _shab_ , the medics gone and offed himself!" Su'ratiin groaned.

"What the hell! Rex! What did you do?" Fox was yelling from behind Rex in the squad quarters.

"I heard a shot! Anyone hurt?" Ven called as he hurried in.

Rex couldn't tear his eyes away from the dark hole in Coric's skull. It was just a small shinny spot against the dark color of his brother's hair.

"It was Coric," Fox said.

"Coric? Who was he shooting at?"

" _Kyr'ast!_ " Kaden hissed.

"I don't speak Mando'a, Bugslut!" Ven growled, his happy demeanor finally broken.

"It means suicide!" Fox snapped.

"No! He wouldn't!" Ven argued.

"He did! _Hut'uun,_ " Su'ratiin replied. _Coward!_ Su'ratiin had called Coric a coward. Coric had stood up to Teth. Coric had survived Umbara. Coric had turned his back on enemy fire to save his brothers over and over… _Coward?_

"Enough!" Rex snapped, over comms and speakers. "Everyone out! Out!" The Commando's jumped to and filed through the door without a backward glance.

"Did you see this coming?" Fox asked Rex, standing in the doorway, feet spread evenly and his arms crossed. _Did I?_ Rex wondered. _I don't think I did but… I thought I cared about Ahsoka and I shot her. Maybe I didn't care about Coric either? Or maybe I did and I just can't remember._ He didn't like the questions in his own mind.

 _"_ Get out!" Rex snapped at Fox and stepped right up into the other man's face. In his helmet and boots Rex had almost an inch on his identical brother. Ven reached out to put a hand on Fox's shoulder. Fox shook it off sharply.

"Did you? He was always looking out for _you_ when it should have been the other way round, _Captain!"_ The title sounded like a slap in the face.

"Leave it, Fox," Ven growled angrily and grabbed the former commander, dragging him back out of the doorway.

Rex didn't wait to listen to Fox's comeback. He punched the door controls hard and turned away. The door _hissed_ shut and the soundproofing sealed Rex inside with his dead brother. Rex looked up at the ceiling and leaned back against the door so his shaking legs wouldn't give out. Slowly he slid down, plastoid squeaking against the durasteel. Rex kept his eyes uplifted so he wouldn't see the corpse.

His breath was suddenly too loud in his helmet and he fumbled with the release and dragged it off. He breathed deep and nearly hurled at the smell of death. Death had a smell. It was plasma discharge, sweet blood, sick, urine, sweat, burning plastoid and engine exhaust. Rex swallowed bile and scrubbed at the moisture in his eyes.

" _Shab, shab, SHAB!_ Coric! Why?" Rex looked at his brother and the pooling blood. Coric stared at him with wide, unseeing eyes. They were brown like Rex's but dull. Rex had to look away. Usually he didn't have to see their eyes. Their helmets allowed him that luxury. He only had to listen to their deaths on his comms. He didn't have to see the agony and terror in their faces the moment before the hot bolt liquefied their brains. Suddenly he saw Ahsoka's face in his memory, her eyes wide and face lit in harsh relief just as Coric's had been but in his memory the light was his blaster bolt. He saw Ahsoka in his memory and his chest ached. He felt her loss like a hole was open in his ribcage. Coric was another hole in him. Anakin, Obi-Wan, Fives, Tup, Echo, Dogma, Slick… They were all scars more painful than the acid burns across his back.

Rex cried for all of them alone with the cooling body. He felt something inside of himself break, like a dam and release a torrent of emotions he could barely name. His hands shook and his stomach churned. Sweat broke out on his forehead and ran down his back. He shuddered and gasped for breath, fighting his own body. He wondered vaguely if Coric felt this way.

 _Is that my fate?_ He thought in horror, seeing his own face with sightless, dull eyes instead of Coric's in front of him. He lost his battle with nausea and barely made it to his trashcan before his stomach expelled the dry rations he'd eaten for breakfast. They tasted worse coming back up. For a moment the distinct smell of vomit overwhelmed him and drove out the death. Rex gasped and sat back, against his desk now, right beside Coric.

He looked down at the body and reached over with a shaking hand to close his brother's eyes. Coric didn't look peaceful even then. Neither had Fives.

"It's alright, _ner vod_." Rex said to the empty office. "The nightmare is over. _Ca'jurkad jaon. Kyr ge'kaan."_

.

Anakin awoke from his nightmare silently but suddenly, as if jolted. His heart was pounding hard and his mouth was uncomfortably dry. Painfully he swallowed and forced himself to breath deeply and evenly like he was meditating. When the sound of pumping blood ebbed from his ears he turned slowly to look at his wife. She was curled up on the bed beside him, her dark curls splayed across the white sheets. She looked beautifully peaceful in the soft moonlight falling from the open window. The fragrance of the summer night was drifting in with the light and the sounds of insects and babbling water. Anakin closed his eyes and just reveled in the serenity of the place, thankful for the sharp contrast to his nightmares of loud battlefields and the harsh, industrial, Coruscanti landscapes.

One sound though was not peaceful. There was a rustling of hurried movement from down the hall. As Anakin reached out in the Force toward the room he felt Ahsoka's trepidations and anxiety.

Slowly and gently he got up, careful not to wake his wife and slipped on a light robe. The sounds were clearer in the hallway. He caught the rustling of clothing and the snaps of a bag being closed. Light shone under Ahsoka's door from a single flickering candle. The newly oiled hinges didn't even squeak as they opened.

His former apprentice was packing her small bag. Her bed was stripped, and the sheets neatly folded at the foot. She was buckling her belt on as Anakin came in. He noted the two blaster holsters on her hips and the flash of chromium on the familiar weapons. She spun around when he came in.

"Going somewhere Snipps?" He asked softly, unwilling to wake the rest of the house.

"Ma—Anakin," She said in surprise that quickly became stubborn anger. "Don't even try—"

"I'm not going to stop you," Anakin cut her off. "I didn't try to stop you going after Obi-Wan either."

That brought her up short and her anger melted as quickly as it flared.

"No, you didn't," she agreed.

"You're still not happy here," Anakin didn't need to ask. He knew that his former student had found none of the contentment at Varikino Minor that he and Obi-Wan had. They had found the things missing from their lives previously: love, passion, freedom, assurance, and companionship. Ahsoka had lost all of those somewhere on Shili.

"I just…" the young Togruta struggled to explain. She turned away from him, wrapping her hands around her elbows.

"Last time you left you said you needed to see what had happened to the galaxy and find your purpose in it. Did you?"

"I think so," she said nodding. "I saw what the Empire has done on Coruscant and in the Senate. There are so many people who just go along with it—ignorant and happy that way! But seeing Dex and his friends—people the Empire has abandoned and hunted—it made me realize that I have a duty to protect them. That's what a Jedi would do right?"

"Is that what you want to be, Ahsoka? A Jedi?"

"That's what I've always wanted to be," she countered. "I didn't understand what that meant until now though. I want to protect others. I don't want to fight a war like we did. I don't want to be a Commander or a General. I want to protect those that I can; like the people of Kiros; like Jinx, O-Mer and Kalifa on Wasskah; like the villagers on Carlac. That's the kind of Jedi I want to be." She stood a little taller, her shoulders coming back in the proud posture he'd always known her to have. For the first time he saw the strong Jedi she was becoming not the military Commander he'd been training her to be.

Even as Anakin felt a warm surge of pride, he felt fear. Beneath her conviction he sensed a pain she was hiding away—a wound she was neglecting. Wounds like that would fester and poison her if she wasn't careful. His had. His pain at his mother's loss and having to hide his love and marriage had been rotting away inside him for a long time. He'd come so close to falling into a terrible darkness that even now he questioned himself. That was the terror that lurked in his dreams and woke him up at night. He wasn't like Ahsoka or Obi-Wan. They were planted firmly in the light and kept there by some internal compass that he knew he didn't possess.

"You already are a great Jedi," Anakin said. "You never needed the Council to tell you that." She looked at him surprised.

"Thank you, Master," she said and bowed.

"You've earned it, Ahsoka," he returned the gesture as if he were wearing the Jedi robes instead of his dressing gown. "Just be careful out there," he warned her. "And maybe call us every now and then, you know. ' _Hi Anakin. How's Obi-Wan enjoying matrimony? I'm still alive by the way.'_ That kind of thing." He said and got a small chuckle out of her.

"I'll see what I can do."

"Where are you going to go? Not back to Coruscant I hope."

"No," Ahsoka said, sitting down and checking the fasteners on her boots. "I asked Senator Organa where he thought I should go. He said the situation on Kashyyyk was looking grim. There's been a lot of illegal cargo moving from there."

"What kind of 'illegal cargo'?" That phrase had many meanings. It could now mean anything from drugs to refugees. It could also mean slaves.

"He didn't say, but he suspects the Empire is involved somehow—either enabling or turning a blind eye to what ever is happening."

Anakin frowned. He knew the kind of people who would be involved. They tended to shoot anything that wasn't making them money, but Ahsoka had met Hondo and survived. She caught his expression and concluded the bent of his thoughts.

"I'll be careful, Anakin. I know what these people can be like. Besides, I'm not unarmed," She stood up and tapped the twin blasters at her belt. They were battle scared, high-powered and pinpoint accurate. Captain Rex had spent a good deal of time customizing those weapons. It was strange to see them where her lightsabers used to be.

"I know you can take care of yourself, Snipps."

"Well you should by now," she agreed and hoisted up her bag onto her shoulders.

"Ahsoka," Anakin said, his tone stopping her in mid motion. "I didn't ever say I'm sorry… about Rex." He felt her pain flair in the Force at the name, confirming his suspicions.

"It's not your fault, Master. It's mine," she said, eyes downcast and her shoulders slumping again under more than just the weight of her pack. "I really thought that… that he cared for me."

"He did once, I _know_ that," Anakin said firmly.

"Did he ever actually say that?" She asked the question rhetorically and Anakins serious answer surprised her.

"He did."

"What? When?" Ahsoka's eyes widened and her lip trembled.

"Before you left the army. He didn't think that his feelings were… appropriate for the subordinate position he had."

Anakin could see her turning over his words and trying to reconcile them with what she knew of the man. Rex had been loyal to her ever since Teth as a Captain, willing to follow her anywhere and back her up in the most dire situations. After her refusal to return to the Order though Anakin had never breached the subject with his Captain, it was too raw of a wound then. He couldn't remember feeling hurt or loss from the Captain either. Perhaps Rex's feelings _had_ changed. Ahsoka's had. She'd once looked up to the Captain as a military role model. The clone had been a teacher to her as much as Anakin and a protector whenever Anakin wasn't around. But somewhere along the way she had become closer to him, their mutual respect becoming a close friendship. Now… It was clear that outside of the military there might have been a chance for something else between them, or at least Ahsoka thought there might have been. The Purge had destroyed all of that, snatching the possibility out of her reach and taking so much more with it.

"It doesn't mater anymore," Ahsoka said, half to herself. Anakin felt his heart sink. He tried not to see the image his imagination was painting for him: Rex struggling in mid-air as an invisible grip choked the life out of him and Ahsoka's outstretched hand guiding the Force.

"Did you…" a lump of dread cut off his question.

"No," she whispered. "I didn't kill him. But… I think I should have." Her words weren't angry or regretful, only pained. "What if he hurts someone else? Isn't that partly my fault now? I let him go back to the Empire and… He's the reason Obi-Wan was captured. He told the Chancelor where Padme and Satine were. He _shot_ me." Her voice threatened to break and she cut herself off sharply, snapping her jaw shut and gritting her teeth for a silent moment. One of her hands moved unconsciously to the weapon strapped to her hip, the weapon that had left the comet shapped scar across her shoulder.

"He was my enemy. Shouldn't I have killed him?" She asked at last when she had control of herself again.

"No." Anakin's answer was firm. "If you killed him out of anger you would regretted it later. Rex made his choices. His actions then and now are his own."

"Thank you, Master," she said softly. The well of pain within her was still deep, but at least she didn't have to face it alone the way he had chosen to.

"Anytime you want to talk Ahsoka, I'm here." That was what a Master was supposed to be, what Obi-Wan had been to him in the last months of the war. Looking back Anakin realized how vitally important the shift in their relationship had been to keep him from falling under Palpatine's influence. He only hoped he could do the same for Ahsoka.

"Will you tell Padme and the others goodbye for me?" She asked, fiddling with the straps of her bag nervously.

"You're not really one for goodbyes," Anakin observed. She just frowned deeper. He wondered what her goodbye to Rex had been, if anything. "I'll tell them for you, Snipps. Take care." He stood back from the door to let her pass.

"You too… Skyguy," she said and gave him a quirk of a smile.

"May the Force be with you," he added gravely. To his own surprise he heard Obi-Wan.

"And with you," she replied and turned to leave. He watched her recede down the hallway, hoping it wasn't the last time.

.

Rex packed his few belongings from around the small windowless office, trying to ignore the lingering red stain on the floor. Soon he would be leaving for good and the stain would only be a memory. His reassignment orders had arrived that morning and the transport was scheduled for the afternoon to pick him up. With the assignment came his demotion, effective immediately after his transferal out of Luke's guard.

It was the second time he'd been stripped of his rank but the failure hurt so much more now than the acid burns had ever pained him. This time he hadn't saved his brothers, his men, or his General. This time he'd failed his brother, failed Coric. He'd failed to see what was eating at the medic. He'd been too slow and too absorbed in his own problems to look beyond himself. The first time he was stripped of his rank Rex could hate the Seperatists or the General. This time he could only hate himself.

The worst part though was Luke. Rex was failing Padme now because he would no longer be able to protect her child. If Walli was right he wouldn't even be alive to worry about Luke's fate or his own failures. Walli seemed to be right about a lot of things. Rex was almost comforted by the idea. _At least I won't end up shooting myself,_ he thought with a little satisfaction. _But it's still not how I wanted to go out. I'd rather die like the rest of my brothers._ He'd told _her_ that night in the Coruscanti bar, "Most of us die before we get decommissioned. We prefer it that way." She'd admonished him for sounding jealous. He was. It would have been simpler just to die on that sinking Seperatist base in an acid ocean. Not even his body would have been left for anyone to mourn over. _Would she have mourned?_ Rex wondered. Forcefully he pushed back that thought and returned to his task. Thinking about those things now wouldn't help anyone.

He packed his bag with methodical precision. Apart from his standard kit he had only a few personal items but still more than most troopers. A change of civilian clothes, a small book of Mandalorian history Jaina had given him, a holo projector with some sentimental images—mostly of his brothers, and a data pad where he logged the names—not the numbers—of every brother who'd died under his command ordered by date. Corric's name was already entered in a long list of casualties from a battle Rex barely remembered. Other than those items, there was only the empty bottle of alcohol from his desk drawer to dispose of and the assorted pile of reports from various people and places to clear and recycle. It was in the pile of flimsy reports that he found Walli's.

CONFIDENTIAL

BEHAVIORAL REPORT ON NIA KAHN BETWEEN ASSIGNMENT TO THE DETAIL OF CAPTAIN IT-7567 AND PRESENT

Rex frowned. He hardly remembered asking Walli for the written report. Between Darman and Coric his mind had been completely occupied or intoxicated. Now he was kicking himself for not digging up the papers earlier. Quickly he flipped through the thick stack. Walli was nothing if not thorough.

He documented all of Nia's usage of the Force with such striking detail Rex concluded that Walli either had an eidetic memory or he'd been writing all this down before Rex asked for the report. Walli wrote:

 _Kahn displays what the former Jedi Council might have considered a reasonable strength with the Force. Kahn manipulates small to mid size objects with ease and practice. The logical conclusion is that Kahn has been trained. In the absence of other organized Force users otherwise known of at the time of writing, it can be assumed it was at the hands of a Jedi and/or the Jedi Order._

Rex nodded at this. He'd thought as much himself.

Walli scrutinized her accept: upper Coruscanti. Her diction: educated, upper Coruscanti, non-indicative of religious or political affiliations. Her health: well maintained, access to medical care throughout childhood, few recent scars all within the past four to five years. Walli did note one prominent scar from her right shoulder to the left side of her back midway down. He described it as a curved, indented burn. Rex wondered how Walli had even seen such a scar and how thorough his investigation of Nia had been. He frowned but read on.

Walli focused on the incidents when she apparently forgot or failed to recognize her own name. He tallied them and did everything but graph their growing frequency. Sometimes she outright told him "that's not my name" and other's she was merely confused.

 _On 907.8039.6 Kahn entered the main living room from her quarters and requested a glass of water from Trooper Walli. Trooper Walli provided the glass of water and enquired as to quality of her sleep that night. Kahn replied it was refreshing. She smiled and acted more amiable and excited than previously observed. She smiled showing teeth and stood contrapposto while looking around the room. Kahn enquired about the weather. This may have been a joke on the controlled climate of Coruscant. Kahn has not been observed making jokes previous to this incident. Trooper Walli responded in the affirmative and addressed her respectfully as "Ms. Kahn." Kahn replied: You can just call me. Then she began to say a word that began with a vowel 'i', 'e', or 'a'. Kahn continued: No, that's not right. Kahn looked visibly shaken. Kahn's shoulders hunched and her eyes lowered. She stilled and returned to normal observed posture and actions. Kahn cited duties, returned the water glass, and proceeded to the child's quarters. Kahn has not referenced this incident since and it has no apparent effect on her actions currently. End Incident._

Rex frowned. He was no more convinced that 'Nia Kahn' was her name any more than she was Luke's mother. Walli had a section on that subject as well. It began with a phenotype comparison of the mother and child that threw into doubt the genetic possibility of, not only their relationship, but Luke's relationship to either of his supposed parents. This was old news to Rex so he prepared to skip the entire section when a list at the end caught his eye.

 _Names Observed In Use for the Child by Kahn:_

 _-Luke – most commonly used when behavior is normal_

 _-Baby – more common when behavior is normal_

 _-Sweetheart – more common when behavior is normal_

 _-Ahdeeca – more common when behavior is abnormal_

 _-My little boy – more common when behavior is abnormal_

 _-Cahdeeca – only when behavior is abnormal_

 _-Venku – once when behavior was abnormal on 807.8021.10_

Rex frowned. _Venku_ sounded like _Vencu,_ which was a Mando'a name from the word _vencuyot_ meaning future. It was possible it had another origin but something nagged at Rex as he read the list. Ahdeeca could be _ad'ika_ meaning little child in Mando'a but maybe Rex was just seeing what he knew in the information not what was actually there. He shook it off and read on.

Walli logged incident after incident of Nia's strange behavior. Sometimes she would pop out a word of military jargon. Sometimes she was overly kind to the troopers or the times Walli saw her looking at them pityingly. Walli recorded an overheard conversation between Kaden and Su'rattin—probably on a hacked personal comm between the two Commando's—about feeling Nia's voice was familiar, like they'd heard it somewhere before being assigned to Luke's guard. Rex frowned at this and he didn't need Walli to point out that the only place Kaden and Su'ratiin might have heard a female voice was on HNN or within the GAR command structure. It was another feather on the scales that tipped in favor of Nia Kahn being a Jedi. The evidence was becoming overwhelming.

Rex came finally to the end of the exhaustive report and found a single incident tacked onto the back. It was dated the evening before his arrival, the same time he had been out with Darman at Dul's bar.

 _Kahn entered the main room at 1100 hours. Her behavior was notably abnormal. Kahn appeared distressed and recently awoken. Troopers Coric and Walli were on shift at the entrance to the apartment. Kahn said: Good evening, Troopers. Trooper Coric responded: Good evening, ma'am. Are you feeling aright? Do you need a sleeping pill? Kahn replied: No. Thank you, Fi. Trooper Coric replied: My name isn't Fi, ma'am. Are you alright? Are you confused? Do you remember hitting your head recently? Kahn paused and appeared confused. Kahn said, distressed: Not Fi? Where is Dar? He was here before. Trooper Coric replied: There is no one named 'Dar' on this guard. Kahn replied: What do you mean? He was here. I made him caf. Trooper Coric replied: I don't know who you're talking about, ma'am. Kahn replied: Why are you calling me ma'am Fi? Trooper Coric replied: I'm not Fi. Do you remember where you are, Ms. Kahn. Kahn replied, more distressed: No. Where am. Kahn preceded to faint. Troopers Coric and Walli returned her to her bed. Effect of incident yet to be observed. End incident._

Rex felt his blood run cold. The name 'Dar' seemed to echo in his head. He put down Walli's report and folded his hands under his chin.

'Nia Kahn' was a Jedi, of that Rex was almost positive. She knew someone, perhaps a trooper, who was called Dar. 'Nia' said she had made caf for 'Dar'. She had also made caf for Rex, if the sickeningly sweet glop she made could still be called caf. Rex had a sudden memory of Niner scooping spoons of sugar into his cup in the 501st mess the last time he'd seen the Commando. _Could Darman have the same habit?_ He found himself wondering. From the way Kaden and Su'ratiin acted it wasn't a long stretch of the imagination. The two commando's under Rex's command—former command—were almost identical in all their mannerisms. Food was no different.

Then there were the names—vaguely Mandaloiran names like Ahdeeca and Venku. In Mandalorian culture your child was your future so the name Vencu would make sense. Cahdeeca could be Cahd' _ika_ with the Mando'a diminutive suffix. Cahd could be _kad_ meaning saber. Rex frowned. It sounded familiar somehow. He wracked his brain to remember where he'd heard that used as a name. Had he known brothers named Kad? Yes, he'd served with a few. They were dead now but that wasn't where he remembered it from. The feeling of the memory was more recent and the only brothers he'd been around were his squad and… Darman! Rex dragged the memory out of his hazy recollections of the night in Dul's bar.

 _"_ _It's more complicated than that! Kad is… special, like Etain."_ Darman had said in the bar. Kad was his son's name. _"I won't let them take my son away like they took my wife."_

Rex could remember his own response to Darman's twisted quest. _"Killing every Force-sensative you can get your hands on won't change that. It won't bring back your son's mother, it's just going to get his father killed for something equally_ jare'la _!"_ Darman's wife had died stupidly and now her husband and child were paying the price. She'd followed the selfless Jedi teachings to her death. Darman had married a Jedi—one of his Commanding officers. That would make her in charge of Republic Commando Squads all across the outer rim and perhaps even Kaden and Su'ratiin's commanding officer as well. They would definitely recognize the voice that passed down their missions.

 _"_ _It was a Jedi. A Jedi killed her by accident because she was protecting a clone, a shinny nobody."_ Niner had explained Etain's death in that one sentence. The burn scar Walli had seen on 'Nia's' back could have easily come from a lightsaber, Rex had seen those wounds before. He'd seen Anakin cut down wets with his lightsaber. It cleaved through flesh as if the bone and muscle were just wet tissue flimsy. Could Etain have survived that? With the Empire's unlimited resources… Rex wondered. Niner's words about Dar's grief came back to him like an echo.

 _"_ _He's been like this ever since. Half the time he's normal, like it never happened. Then sometimes he's just angry and he doesn't seemed to remember who she was or… what they had. But he doesn't grieve."_ Rex frowned. He knew that. He knew that all too well because he couldn't grieve either. But so did 'Nia.' He'd seen that on her first day.

 _"_ _You're crying."_ Walli had told her.

 _"_ _Oh," she had reached up to feel her cheek. "So I am." Nia had turned back to the window, unaffected and resumed her strange silent vigil._

Rex pulled up Nia Kahn's personnel file on a nearby pad. He looked closely at the picture. Her brown hair was duller, as if neglected while it left the streaks of red more prominent, her face more tanned than it was now and her freckles more visible, her eyes brighter and more focused, less watery and vacant. They shone out of the picture, green and piercing. Even the little stubborn jut of her chin was more pronounced in the picture. It was almost like looking at a stranger despite the resemblance to the woman he saw daily.

'Nia' had worn that expression the evening she made him caf. It was like her abnormal times (to use Walli's terms) were when she was most alive. He remembered vividly the feel of her lips on his cheek even from the fleeting moment of touch it had been. It was a gesture of comfortable familiarity and affection, a gesture of love.

Rex frowned at the picture of Darman's wife looking back at him from the screen and felt his heart sink with dread. He wasn't just failing Coric and Padme now but Darman as well. He couldn't save Coric from his nightmares and the horrors in his past. He couldn't protect Padme's son from the Empire and the Sith that wanted to use him as a weapon. He couldn't protect Darman's wife who was literally stolen away from him and twisted into someone who wouldn't even recognize him.

 _"_ _Haar'chak!"_ Rex hissed and rubbed a hand over his face. He threw down the pad and collapsed against the back of his chair.

"What am I supposed to do?" he asked the empty room. "What can I do? I'm as much a slave as any of them!" _I don't have a home to run to on Mandalore like you do, Dar!_ He thought bitterly. Rex wasn't even sure he would run if he could. What kind of life would be waiting for him outside of the Empire and the Army, without _her?_ Just more pain, he knew. _At least Darman is with Kad, assuming he made it to_ Kyrimorut _._

 _Kyrimorut!_ Rex remembered suddenly where he'd heard that name. It was from the droid and the human who had given him the innocuous comm link. Rex quickly rummaged in his utility belt for the little device. He pulled it out and stared at it.

 _"_ _It's secure, frequency is plugged in, but tell your buddies it was a rush job, only good for one call," the man had said._

One call to Kyrimorut was all Rex needed. He was still Captain of Luke's guard for a few more hours and he was going to make them count. Quickly he gathered all the necessary information, pulling flight plans and assignments. (He noted Fox was going to be promoted into his place and it irked him more than he wanted to admit.) Rex laid out the information on the desk before him and took a deep breath. He pressed the call button on the comm link and waited.

"Is this Rex?" A brother's voice answered, not one that Rex knew but thick with the Mando accent he'd heard in the other Commandos.

"Yes."

"Do you have proof?" the voice asked and Rex smiled. Caution meant that he wasn't talking to an idiot. Dar and Kad were well protected.

"Was Kad happy to see his father?"

"Overjoyed." The voice replied. "You've only got the one call, _ner vod_. You want out? Tell us where and when. We'll be there."

"Casper-class transport, ID Papa-Indigo-six-four-eight-eight-Bravo-niner, rough heading 68.3 by 130.2 by 30.7 at coordinates 778.5621, 392.5568, 278.947. Got all that, vod?"

"Do I need to repeat it?"

"Just be there and bring fire-power."

"When?"

"Six hours."

" _Shab!_ Cutting it a bit close!" His brother sounded less than happy.

"Darman _does not_ want to miss that ship, _vod._ _Bic ori'jaonyc!" It's vital._

 _"_ Alright. We'll be there. Any chance of help from the inside?"

"Negative."

"Not making this easy for us."

"If it were easy I wouldn't have called." _You have no idea how hard this is going to be, brother. It's going to be hard in all the ways you don't expect._

"I know. Niner said you were _ori'ramikad_ yc. If you could get out yourself, I'm sure you would."

Rex shook his head. It was high praise, but he found he didn't want it. Being Commando worthy didn't save Coric. Being able to fight didn't change Ahsoka's fate. It wasn't going to save his life even now and he didn't want it to.

"Six hours, _vod_ ," the voice on the other end of the line said.

"Look before you shoot."

"Got a location so we know where _not_ to shoot?"

"Main crew cabin with the package."

"So right behind the biggest defenses. _Ori'jatne!" Perfect!_ His last word oozed with sarcasm. Rex smirked; he liked this brother. He was sorry they'd never meet face to face.

"Got a name, _vod?"_ Rex asked.

"Kom'rk," the voice replied.

"Koyacyi Kom'rk," Rex said.

"You too. Stay alive for six hours at least. It's a long way to go for nothing if you're dead." The call ended with a soft beep and Kom'rk was gone.

Rex leaned back. He wondered where he would be in six hours. It didn't mater so long as Kom'rk and Darman made the RV. It didn't mater so long as Etain and Luke were safe. Then Rex had done something right. At least he hadn't failed everyone.

 _I'll be with you soon, Ahsoka_. _Ge'jii, cyare._ He allowed himself to think of _her_ even if the emotions it brought up were conflicted and contrary. Maybe in death they'd make sense.

.

Author's Note: _Ca'jurkad_ is a term I got from AtinBralor. It's a mash up of _ca_ meaning night and _jurkadir,_ which means to attack; so roughly it means nightmare. Seems logical to me so I borrowed it. I hope she doesn't mind.

 _Kyr'ast_ is another mashed up term. _Kyr_ means end and _ast_ meaning itself.

 _Ge'jii_ is _ge_ meaning almost and _jii_ meaning now; together to make soon.

Oh so much fun. :) Here's a little game since Rex has now sent the Kyrimorut _aliit_ after his own squad: predict who I'm going to kill off next! (But seriously, I have to resist my love of tragedies at times like this.) As always leave me a review if you liked it or have questions, or you want to point out a mistake, or you just want to tell me how much you love Mandalorians, that's cool too. –Em


	8. Chapter 8

Author's Note: Ok. If you were looking for another short story like the others in this series… sorry. This story kind of took off on it's own and dragged me kicking and screaming along with it. I hope you'll stick around and see it through with me. –Em

.

 **Chapter 8: Retrieval**

.

The cabin of the _Sen'ika_ was silent and tense despite the crowd that was packed into the small space. Parja Skirata sat at the wheel of the rickety old transport she'd nursed back into health wondering if the crate would be salvageable after her Null ARC brothers were done with it. At least there were only three of them. Ordo sat directly behind her, calmly going over his weapons as if it were a simple hunting mission not a confrontation with a galactic superpower ahead of them. Jaing was beside his brother securing his own brand of weapons in the form of splicing chips and pads. Kom'rk sat beside Jaing, eerily still, not even twitching. He said he spent hours like that on Utapau while he was spying on Grievious. Kal and Bardan had also come along. Parja suspected Kal was there to discourage them from picking up any more strays; Kyrimorut was crowded already even with Zey and Maze gone. Bardan's _special senses_ were going to be important considering the amount of uncertainty they were walking into. Darman was the most uncomfortable though and it showed. He couldn't sit still and glanced at the long-range scanners constantly for any sign of movement. Parja glanced at her husband in the co-pilot's seat.

With a few rapid eye blinks she opened a private channel with him.

"How's Darman holding up?" She asked Fi.

"Fine I think," he replied without moving a muscle. From outside their buckets it looked like they were still sitting quietly. "He's worried about Niner. Corr said his nightmares are bad, but so were Darman's after what happened on Gaftikar. Niner killed one of his own brothers. That's not going to go away any time soon… or ever. Darman feels responsible for it all: Niner staying behind with him, bringing Rede in the first place, all of it. And I think he's worried about seeing Rex again. He was shocked we even got the call." For once Fi didn't try to cover any of it with humor. There wasn't much humor to be had over the situation. It betrayed Fi's own worries. Parja knew pressing Fi about his own feelings wouldn't get her anywhere, so she asked about Rex and Darman.

"What happened between them?"

"No idea. Dar just said Rex _talked_ to him. I think there might have been more to it." Fi sounded uncomfortable. After spending so long with his squad, knowing every moment of their lives as well as his own and everything about them, it was strange to realize that they had secrets now. Atin had a life with Laseema that the others weren't a part of. Darman had always had Etain but that was never a secret. She had been almost as close as a brother to them anyway. Now Darman had Kad. Even Fi himself had a life beyond his squad with Parja. He reached across the center console to put a hand over his wife's on the steering. She looked over at him and he heard her lips part to speak.

Kal cut in on the public comm before their conversation could continue though.

"You sure we're in the right place, _ad-ika_?" He asked Kom'rk.

"This is where Rex said they would be," the Null replied, double-checking the coordinates.

"Well they're…" Kal was about to say 'late' when the long-range sensor's pinged. Darman nearly jumped out of his skin.

"One object coming out of light-speed ahead. Heading: 67.9 by 130.8 by 31.1." Ordo informed them.

"Rex was damn near spot on," Kom'rk said with a sharp approving nod.

"Looks like a Casper silhouette," Darman agreed.

"Let's get started then."

"Beginning emergency hailing," Parja said and fliped a small switch protruding from the dashboard and hooked up to a tangle of wires. It was started to relay what would usually be an automatic distress signal and damage report. _Sen'ika_ would appear on the Empire ship's scanners as a licensed transport, _Lark_ , with a blown out engine and failing life support; she looked rusty enough to make that plausible. If the Empire followed it's own rules they were obligated to pick up survivors and deliver them to the next port. It was all part of Ordo's very detailed plan.

The Casper ship burst into existence out of hyperspace just off their bow, filling the view-screen.

" _Shab!_ " Kal hissed. "It's like they don't care if they hit us."

"No change in speed or course," Darman noted. The scanner wasn't picking up any transponder codes that they could read either. The ship was a ghost.

" _Haar'chak!"_ Kal cussed, looking at the scanners, "Rex as got us tied up with spooks."

"You think they received the distress signal?" Fi wondered.

"They got it," Jaing said. "Now, the question is will they answer it?"

"I'm not placing any bets," Darman said, and they could all hear the frown in his voice. There was a hard, cold note to it that sent a chill through Parja. It was a different kind of cynicism than Prudii's flaunted insincerely. Darman really believed that the Empire was cold and emotionless—not an ounce of pity anywhere.

"What's the Jedi radar telling us?" Fi asked. Bardan huffed a little.

"I can sense…" Bardan trailed off and swallowed nervously, "I'm not quite sure what I sense. Five clones, that's for sure. I believe there are two others somewhere in the center of the ship."

"Only five?" Jaing asked. "That's a small crew for a Casper."

"Below the minimum regs," Ordo agreed.

"Hail them, _Par'ika_ ," Kal said, tapping Parja's shoulder plate. "They might be more inclined to respond to a woman."

Parja took off her helmet—helmet comms always sounded different—and opened an unencrypted hailing frequency.

"This is transport vessel _Lark_ to Imperial Casper-class starship, please respond. I repeat, _Lark_ to Casper-class vessel." She diplomatically dropped the Mando accent she usually had when speaking Basic.

"We read you _Lark._ " The response was terse but the voice was definitely a clone. Parja frowned at the lack of introduction on their part.

"Oh, thank god! We thought we were alone out here." She imitated relief.

"We see your beacon, _Lark_. Regretfully we are not able to assist at this time."

Fi's hand tightened over hers almost painfully. She imagined there were some unkind words for the _Capser's_ Captain on the helmet comms at that moment.

"What? But… but if you don't help us… we're going to _die_ out here!" Parja tried to sound panicked when all she felt was the red-hot rage building in her stomach. She was suddenly regretting not being part of the boarding team. _Vod_ or not, abandoning an entire crew to a cold, suffocating death in space was a special kind of sin, even if it was a fake distress signal anyway. The comm was silent. Parja cut it furiously and shoved her helmet back on.

"Well," Ordo said with a shrug, "we have a plan for this too."

"Shoot a few Imps for me," Parja grumbled.

"Will do, _vod-ika_ ," Kom'rk said and buckled in. "You remember where the air lock is?"

"Oh, I remember," Parja said. "They won't know what hit them! Prepare to drop our little present."

.

Fox frowned when heard the _Lark's_ comm frequency close with a snap. The sound and the silence that followed seemed to reverberate in the large, cockpit of empty seats. Usually a bridge like the _Casper's_ would be crewed by a half a dozen men and a few more supervisors. Instead Kaden and Su'rattin were manning the essential stations alone. They seemed to like it that way. The two ambled around between the stations, adjusting knobs and checking the system diagnostics as if they were two parts of one person. He wondered what they thought of leaving the stranded crew in the void of space. It didn't mater. Their orders were clear: do not stop for anything, do not take on any unauthorized crew, do not reveal any information about your destination, cargo, origin, or mission to anyone but the appointed contact at the specified RV—that included distress signals.

"Hold our heading. Call me if anything else shows up on the scanners," Fox told the two Commandos. "Kaden, you have the con."

"Yes, sir," they replied in unison, one voice. Fox repressed a shiver. He was three steps from the door of the bridge when the proximity-motion-sensors went off.

"What's that?" Fox snapped.

"It's the transport!" Kaden growled and hurried to the engine controls. "They're not quite as dead as they claimed."

"Evasive—"

 _THUMP-CLANG!_

The ship shuddered under Fox's feet and he stumbled backward into the doorway of the bridge. The whole ship rumbled and the engines began to hiss and whine. Alarms went off at all stations across the cockpit.

"We're hit!"

"Something's on our hull!" Su'ratiin was scrambling toward the right console. The lights flickered and the screens all flashed. The heart stopping sound of the engines failing echoed through the empty corridors.

" _Osik!"_ Kaden groaned. Fox could see in the Commando's POV icon on his hud that the drives were losing power fast. They were all symptoms that Fox recognized too slowly.

"De-magnetize the hull!" He cried. "It's a mag-distrupt—"

BANG-BOOM!

The ship shook violently again and the stabilizers screamed high-pitched, electronic noises of futility. Fox was thrown clean off his feet and backward out of the cockpit. His helmet made a plastoid-crunching sound as it hit the wall and he fell unceremoniously in a heap on the corridor floor.

A metallic wrenching sound echoed from down the hallway, followed by the loud smashing of metal thrown violently against metal. Fox's helmet sound-dampeners kicked in before he was deafened by the clattering.

"Airlock breach!" Kaden yelled over the comms.

"Attempting to demagnetize," Su'ratiin added, sounding deadly calm. Fox scrambled to his feet.

"Get that _blasted thing_ off us!" Fox made it two steps toward the door he'd been thrown through, before the sliding blast shield snapped shut in front of him. "What the…"

"I've lost controls!" Su'ratiin said. "Something is in our system."

"Hard contact!" Walli's voice cut into the circuit, his voice tense and taunt with repressed pain. "Starboard airlock," the trooper gasped for breath. "Mandalo—" his voice cut off suddenly with a surprised hitch of his breath and then silence.

"Walli! Nine one, respond!"

Fox quickly checked the life-signs in his HUD. Walli was alive but unconscious. His helmet was giving a pretty good view of situation though. The Starboard airlock doors had been blown off their hinges from the outside and pieces of them were scattered across the hallway. The larger chunks were embedded in the durasteel walls with the force of the explosion. Fox dimly wondered how the crew on the other side had survived the proximity to the blast. Fox quickly counted six Mandalorians in variously colored armor rushing the hallway. One was paused with his back to Walli and his attention focused on the console attached to the wall. The others were splitting up and headed in either direction down the hall at the direction of the one in green based on his gestures. Three were headed back to the crew compartments and two were headed his way.

" _Shab!_ " he hissed. "Kaden, Su'ratiin, get out of there!"

"That might take a while, Captain."

"Hold the bridge! Nothing get's in there but me!"

"Yes, sir," they replied as one.

Fox scrambled to his feet and made a run for the back of the ship. These Mandalorians weren't just hijaker's. They had come with a plan and a mission. They'd known where to wait and what they were waiting for. Fox cursed under his breath. Secrecy was supposed to be their greatest shield, and now that it was gone there were only a handful of outnumbered clones against six Mando pirates.

" _Shab!"_ was about all that Fox could say. "I'll shoot the woman and child myself before I let these sicko's have them."

He heard the pounding of boots behind him when the Mando's turned onto the hall. Blindly he drew his DC and fired backward toward them. A few answering shots whizzed past his helmet and he ducked instinctually. The heat made the noise filters crackle in his ear. He turned the corner and made a mad dash for the crew compartment doors.

Ven was already there, set up in the shallow doorway firing down the opposite hall. Fox took his Lieutenant's back.

"We're cut off," he told Ven and shot back at his pursuers the way he'd come. They were now at a stand still, the two of them against he five Mandalorians cutting off both exits. A gold helmet peaked around the corner at Fox's end and he answered with a few well placed shots. A scorch appeared on the corner where the enemy had been a half second before. Fox adjusted his grip and in the second that took him a dark-green blur stepped out in full view and snapped off a volley. A shatter of sparks flew across his view as one shot hit the wall just in front of him and the next sliced past his side. Fox returned but his first shot flew wide. The second was a hairs breath behind the green blur. He pressed against he door and waited for the pain. He was about to release a sigh of relief when nothing came . Then he heard Ven grunt.

"Lieutenant?" He turned and saw Ven fall to his knee. To the trooper's credit he kept his gun up and trained on his side of the hallway. Fox stepped out to cover his brother's back.

"Ven! Report!"

"Just a scratch," the trooper replied but his voice was trembling.

" _Shab!"_

There was a moment of tense silence while they waited for the next volley of fire. Nothing came. A soft dripping sound started from behind Fox's back, the sound of blood hitting the durasteel floor.

"Captain," a tense voice, too monotone to be Ven, whispered in Fox's ear.

"Walli!" Fox hissed into his comms. "Proceed to the main aft corridor and engage—"

"Sorry, Captain," Walli's voice was strained and weak. "I'm not going anywhere with this door on top of me."

"Are you injured?"

"Don't know. I'm scanning for the enemy's comm frequency now."

 _Good man_ , Fox thought, _making himself useful even when he's pinned down._ He could see in Walli's POV icon that he was rolling through the available channels with his sensor aimed at the Mandalorian in grey armor, who was still bent over the console outside of the airlock.

"This is quite a situation you're in," a voice called aloud from Fox's end of the hallway, breaking the short ceasefire. It was an older male voice distorted by a helmet's external speaker. Fox didn't reply.

"I know your brother there is injured, son," the voice said. Fox growled at the false kindness.

"Who said he's my brother?" He replied on open comms.

"I know you clone boys pretty well," the Mando answered. "You're all brothers, _vode an_."

Fox's internal speakers crackled for a moment then a new rush of chatter filtered into his ears. Walli had tapped into their coms.

 _"_ _I don't think you're getting through to him,_ Buir" a younger male voice said.

" _It was worth a try,_ " the man who had called out to Fox responded.

 _"_ _I can get a clear angle on the Captain if you draw him out, Kom'rk,"_ another voice added in an assured tone and strong accent, but the voice was unmistakably a _vod_ , a brother, a fellow clone. Fox felt his stomach flip and his DC wavered slightly.

 _"_ _I'll draw his fire and take out the wounded,"_ another brother's voice responded.

 _Traitors_ , Fox thought furiously.

"I'm no _mando'ade_ ," Fox snapped. "You don't know me. Save your platitudes for someone else. If you're going to kill us, come out and do it. I'll do my damnedest to take a few of you with me!" Fox was slowly backing up toward the door controls. He might not take one of the Mandalorians, but he was definitely not giving them what they wanted. He tried not to think about what he was going to see in that room the moment before he lit it up with blaster fire. _It's a mercy to the woman and child_ , he told himself. _Better than what these Mando's have planned for her and the kid._ If he could he'd shoot Ven too. Better a quick death from a brother. _That's what I would ask for himself,_ Fox thought.

 _"_ _He's planning something. We need to move!"_ the younger male voice warned the Mandos. Fox ground his teeth.

 _"_ _I've got a better alternative. Stall!_ " a third brother said into their coms.

"Now don't do anything rash," the older Mandalorian warned over speakers, as if he could see Fox moving and resolving himself. "We're not here for your cargo."

"You're a shit liar."

"I've got no reason to lie, son," the voice replied. "I've got the upper hand here. I could kill you, but I'd rather not. I'm offering you a chance to save your buddy's life here."

Fox froze and looked down at Ven behind him. His brother's hands were shaking, but he was still holding up that blaster. His side was a mess of burnt and blackened plastoid and his armor was slick and shinny red from his waist to the small pool around his bent knee.

"We've got a mission, Commander." Ven said the same words he'd said to Fox during the Purge, back when Fox had been a Commander. Fox had chosen his brothers over his mission then and it landed both of them in this mess. He nodded to Ven sharply.

Fox turned for the door controls.

 _"_ _Too late,"_ the young male said over the Mandalorians' comms.

Fox heard the _hiss-clack_ of an airlock just as he raised his hand for the door controls. Just before the gust of escaping air drowned out everything else Fox heard the third brother yell over the enemy comms.

 _"_ _Grab something!"_

 _Shab!_ Fox thought just before the pull of the vacuum wrenched him off his feet. Ven gave a short cry then they were hurtling down the corridor. Fox flailed in the streaming air current, his hand smacked painfully twice against the hard walls before he found purchase for a moment on a doorway. He threw his arm out. When his gauntlet cracked against Ven's, he gripped tight, feeling the added weight on his slipping fingers. Letting go of Ven never crossed his mind.

 _Clunk!_ The sound of the airlock shutting was the sweetest sound Fox had ever heard. The sucking pull released and he dropped painfully to the hallway floor for the second time. Ven gave a grunt then fell into silent unconsciousness. Fox checked his HUD for his brother's life signs and their air pressure readings. All around him he heard the emergency systems hissing to life and releasing air. He saw the oxygen levels slowly rising and sighed in relief.

Over the enemy's comms he heard them grunting and getting to their feet.

 _"_ _Cutting it close, vod!"_ the one called Kom'rk exclaimed, slightly peeved but sounding surprisingly exhilarated.

 _"_ _I could see you,"_ the third brother responded. " _I've gotten into the security cams. Looks like the two up front are still struggling with the door controls. These ships sure aren't built to bend."_

 _"_ _Did we flush them out?"_ the older man asked, sounding winded and none too pleased about the close brush with open space.

" _No,_ Buir. _They're a few meters down the hall though and out of your way."_

 _"_ _Do you see our man?" Buir_ asked.

"One of them's still conscious," the younger male voice cut the others off.

Fox lifted his head in time to see the gold armored Mando and the one in the lighter, dusty-green colored armor looking down the hallway at him. _How did they know?_ He wondered, just before the one in green raised his hand, fingers splayed and palm toward Fox. Then all Fox knew was the blackness of unconsciousness.

.

Bardan felt Fox wink out like a light in the Force, his presence becoming muted and distant from the present.

"What the _shab_ are you doing," Kal growled and grabbed his son's arm with a sharp tug. Despite being smaller and older he still wrenched Bardan's arm hard. "Blowing open the airlock was risky enough!"

"They'll know it was me anyway," Bardan snapped back tersely and pulled away. "Don't open that door!" He yelled at Kom'rk and Ordo despite the comms that made him sound just feet from them instead of yards. The two Null ARCs paused in front of the doorway.

"Why not?" Kal demanded. "What's in there Jaing?"

 _"_ _Not sure,_ " the Null back at the airlock console said, " _They've disabled the cams inside."_

"What are you picking up that the scanners aren't, _Bard'ika?_ " Kal asked. Quickly Bardan switched their comms over to a private channel. Kal noticed and stood up a little straighter, confused.

" _Buir,_ I'm sorry, but I have to ask," Bardan said, sounding worried and badly shaken. "Are you sure that Etain was dead?" Just hearing her name sent a pang through Kal that felt like a physical punch.

"This is not the time…"

"I know, _buir,"_ Bardan cut off his father. "Please, just answer me."

"Yes, son," Kal said, his shoulders heavy, but he kept them straight with effort. "I told you the first time you asked. I didn't lie. She was dead." In his mind the last moments of Etain's life played before his eyes in horrific detail. As hard as he had tried to forget the memory it was only seared into his consciousness more distinctly.

"I remember and I trust you, _buir."_ Bardan swallowed and it sounded loud over the comms. "But I also have to trust my senses."

"And what are they telling you?"

"There are no brothers on the other side of that door."

"What _is_ in there?" Kal asked. His breath was shallow as he waited for the answer.

"I don't know," Bardan replied just shaking his head. Kal wished suddenly he could see his son's face and get some read on how Bardan was feeling, but even then, the Jedi were trained to hide all emotion. Kal switched his comms back to the public channel.

"Open that door!" He snapped and strode down the hall to his sons. They took up positions on either side, weapons drawn. They could count; two clones still trapped in the cockpit, one outside the airlock, and two in the hallway made five; none of them Rex. The retrieval was shaping up to be another unmitigated disaster. Darman and Ordo flanked the left and Kom'rk the right, with his father behind him. Ordo hit the controls and the door hissed open to reveal the darkened crew compartment and overturned furniture. Silence hung for a moment.

"Who ever you are, come out with your hands above your head!" Kal shouted into the shadows.

"Leave us alone!" The panicked cry that returned out of the gloom was like the voice of a ghost. The all stiffened. Darman's blaster dropped a few inches.

" _Et'ika,_ " his soft whisper carried over the comms easily.

"Can't be," Ordo growled. Kal swallowed painfully and tried again, more gently.

"We don't want to hurt you ma'am, if you could just come out, please?"

"N-no. Y-you can't be here. He—he's going to come for us! My husband is going to—to—Where is he? Where's Darman?" Her words were trembling and soft but echoed clearly out into the hallway.

"Dar, No!" Bardan jumped forward to grab his brother a moment too late. Kal grabbed Bardan out of the path of the doorway just as Darman charged through it into the darkness.

"Darman!" Kal yelled after the boy.

"Etain! _Et'ika_ , it's me. I'm right here." Darman was calling out into the darkness.

 _Clang!_ Something small and metallic smacked into the side of Darman's helmet with a hollow sounding ring. A cup clattered noisily to the floor and rolled into the halo of light at the doorway.

"You're _not_ my husband! Where's Darman? What have you done with him?" She yelled back.

A baby started crying. The loud and high-pitched sound came from somewhere in the darkness with the woman who couldn't be Etain.

"Shit, there's a child," Kal groaned and holstered his blaster. Ordo and Kom'rk made no motion to do the same. " _Udesii, ad'ike."_ Kal told them and edged into the doorway past Kom'rk. He flicked on his helmet lamp and a beam of white light broke through the darkness. Kal swept it toward the sound of the child's cries.

The light fell across the pale oval of a woman's face. Her expression broke Kal's heart all over again. He wondered if anything was worse than her being dead and gone forever, but seeing her eyes wide with primal fear and terror looking back at him cut harder and deeper than he could have been prepared for.

" _Et'ika,"_ Darman pleaded as he inched closer to her. He reached up and took off his helmet, as if that had ever kept Etain from recognizing him. Darman let it fall from his hands and clatter like the metal cup to the floor. "Please, _cyar'ika._ It's me. It's Darman."

Etain clutched at the bundle wrapped in her arms and edged away from the Mandalorians. Kal could only stare in mute shock. It was definitely his daughter, the scrawny, wide-eyed, too-young Jedi that he'd met on Coruscant who proved to be a woman of iron resolve and perseverance under her naiveté. Her brown hair hung loose and limp around her face, dulled to chestnut instead of the sun-bleached, red-streaked brown he remembered. Her face was pale and sweaty, her lips trembled, and her bony hands gripped her screaming burden.

"You're not Darman," she repeated, shaking her head at the man she didn't recognize. "What have you done with him? Where is he? Darman! DARMAN!" She screamed and the child screamed louder with her.

"It's me. It's me, Et'ika. I'm here and I love you. I love you." Darman whispered brokenly and fell to his knees in front of her, but Etain wasn't listening or even looking at him.

Kal saw Ordo and Kom'rk edging into the room, their blasters still drawn but lowered.

"How is this possible?" Kal asked softly. It was the first question of so many clamoring for his attention. He was reduced to facing them as they came, one at a time.

"I don't know, _buir,_ " Ordo said. "We were both sure she was dead."

"We've seen other's make impossible recoveries before," Kom'rk reminded them of Fi's miraculous rebound from his crippling brain injury.

"Others who still had life signs," Ordo said softly.

"Are we sure it's her?" Kal asked.

"She appears to be Etain, down to her freckles," Ordo said. Kal could see in the POV icon in his HUD that Ordo had zoomed in on the bridge of the woman's nose.

Kal didn't question Ordo's memory; it was perfect and unfading. If he said the woman was the spitting image than she was. But it was Bardan's words that convinced him.

"It's her," the former Jedi said, his voice deep and ancient in a way Kal hadn't heard in a while. The Force was telling Bardan it was the truth. Kal looked sidelong at his son. Bardan had his helmet off, and he was looking at Etain with shinning eyes. There wasn't a trace of the Jedi emotionless facade there. He looked as torn up as Kal felt.

Etain had turned away from the kneeling man in front of her and into the wall at her back, trying to block out the view of the armored bodies around her. She cradled the child and whispered calming words in a voice that shook. Kal felt his stomach clench when he caught the name 'Kad' on her lips.

"Get her on the ship," Kal said. "We can't stay here."

"Yes, _buir,_ " Kom'rk said, stepping forward toward Darman.

"What if this is a trap?" Ordo said. "There's too little security. This was too easy!"

 _"_ _I don't think they were expecting company,"_ Jaing's voice cut into their comms. _"I've been digging in their systems and I can't find anything. They didn't file any flight plans, go through any customs checks, log with any military groups or officials. This ship doesn't exist according to the Empire or anyone else for that mater."_

"What does that mean, son?" Kal asked slowly.

 _"_ _Means whatever this ship is carrying the Empire is trying to hide from it's own people, even it's own military. It's a lot of trouble just to catch a couple of run away clones—even ones as scary as us."_

"So why is it warranted for a single ex-Jedi?" Kal asked.

"Or an infant?" Ordo asked. Kal looked over to see Etain struggling against Kom'rk and Darman who were trying in vain to placate her. The child was still wrapped tight in her arms. Bardan stood back watching them with wide, confused eyes. Kal saw his son's hand gripped tight around his lightsaber and frowned. Bardan was seeking comfort and familiarity from something disturbing only he could sense.

Etain had not lost any of her stubbornness and fought Kom'rk all the way to _Sen'ika_. If she had used the Force one man alone would not have been able to walk her off the ship. But Etain struggled with only the strength of the frail woman she appeared to be. Fi was waiting with a gentle sedative that lulled her into complacency. They all crammed back into the small craft. Jaing activated the emergency hatch that would prevent the _Casper_ from loosing air-pressure when they detatched. Kal had been telling the truth when he said they didn't want to kill anyone. With one last digital attack launched on the _Casper's_ on-board computer Jaing packed up his gear.

"That will cripple them for the next four hours, by which time we will be long gone," Jaing said as he strapped into his seat. "Then it'll let those two in the cockpit out and give them back engines and controls. The mag-disruptor worked beautifully by the way, _Par'ika._ "

"Oh well, you know. Take a field generator, strap on some spare induction coils, drop it in the right place—instant space doldrums. Any girl could do it," Parja said with a false-lighthearted tone. She pulled _Sen'ika_ gently away from the crippled _Casper_ vessel.

"Maybe any Mando girl," Fi said with pride, "but _ner riduur_ does it best." Parja tried to take some comfort in Fi's well intentioned words, but she knew only half his mind was on her. The other half was on Darman and Etain behind them. Fi reached out for his wife as she simultaneously reached across the console to him. They clasped hands, reassured by each other's physical presence even if their words were empty.

"I made a mistake, _buir,_ " Kom'rk said, taking off his helmet and running a hand through his hair.

"What are you talking about?" Kal asked.

"Rex never said he would be at the RV. I made an assumption and he never corrected me. I should have been sure. I would have known if he'd lied to me."

"What _did_ he say?"

"He just said, 'Darman really doesn't want to miss that ship. _Bic ori'jaonyc.'"_ Kom'rk quoted Rex word for word.

"He's not wrong," Kal said and looked back at Darman. The man was absorbed with watching Etain cradle the child, as if she were the only thing in the universe that meant anything to him. She and Kad were his reasons for breathing, for living, _ori'jaonyc…_

"He's not wrong," Kal repeated.

.

Author's Note: Not the happy reunion we all hoped for Darman and Etain but at least they're together with Kad. Back to Rex next chapter! -Ember


	9. Chapter 9

Author's Note: So I really got majorly stumped on this chapter... It's kind of all down hill for Rex. I promise things will get better for him if you keep reading. (Then worse. (Then better?)) I also apologize for the lack of Ahsoka, I miss her too. Enjoy –Em

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 **Chapter 9: Nightmares**

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Some part of Rex's sleeping mind knew that it wasn't real—that he'd lived this moment before. Another part embraced the animated memory, savoring every detail. He could hear the far off sound of massive engines traveling through the walls and floor of the ship. He was back on the Resolute—home—but the bed he was lying on felt wrong, too wide and too high. It was a cot in the med-bay.

"Why did you do it, Rex?" his brother's voice said, filling the large empty space. But the med bay hadn't been empty—it was _never_ empty.

"Coric?" Rex looked around for the voice but it wasn't Coric he saw striding over to his bedside.

"I think he's mad at you," Anakin said, grinning. His black leather tunic murmured and his lightsaber swung off his belt like it always did. Part of Rex's dreaming mind knew it was a strange sight from a long gone part of his life.

"That was quite a stunt you pulled down there. Saved a lot of men." When Rex could only stare back in confusion at his General, Skywalker laughed. "You didn't think I'd just leave you down there did you? And don't even bother telling me it was reckless and dangerous, that's what I have Obi-Wan for."

Rex remembered this conversation from his last trip on the Resolute. He had just woken up from his dip in bacta. Anakin came to see him minutes after Coric gave him the hard news. The word _decommissioned_ was still echoing in Rex's head when his General congratulated him on his survival.

"Don't worry, Rex. You're gonna be fine." The Jedi assured him, reaching for something beside Rex's bed. Rex flinched when the wrist bindings were pulled tight. He found his legs were strapped down too at his ankles and knees. The tight band around his shoulders pushe his back against the hard hospital bed. He started shaking as useless adrenaline surged through his veins.

"Just relax, soldier." Rex snapped his head around to see an unfamiliar face and stormtrooper white armor. The trooper checked the tightness of Rex's bonds then stepped back and took his place beside the door. Another stormtrooper with an unfamiliar face was standing at attention on the other side, hand on his DeeCee and finger on the safety.

"I think I'd prefer the bullet if it's all the same," Rex heard himself say. The stoormtroopers couldn't even look him in the eye. Rex lay back and tried to still his shaking.

"I promise, it will only take a minute," a soft voice whispered at his elbow. Anakin was gone and the medbay had shrunk around him. He was in a lone bed int he center of a white, antiseptically clean room. Everything looked like the color had been scrubbed off, even the woman. Her dark skin was waxy and her dark hair lackluster and limp. Her eyes, set deep in her blank face, looked as out of place as the greasy, soot-streaked weapons; in the all pervasive whiteness they were two vividly blue orbs. They looked right back at Rex and didn't flinch away as guilt filled her face.

 _They aren't the right blue,_ Rex remembered thinking at that moment. She looked away to ready the large needle. Her fingertips on his bare arm were cold and hesitant. He couldn't tell if it was his own shudders he felt or hers. He saw movement out of the corner of his eye near the door then felt the cold sharp point of the needle on his arm. Rex's heart skipped a beat. He strained against the binders away from the deadly needle.

 _I always thought I would die with my brothers around me,_ he thought. _I always thought I'd die beside her, protecting her… I don't want to be alone. Don't let me die alone!_

"Wait!" Rex's heart skipped a beat at the word.

"There's been a new development," the stormtrooper who had tied him down stopped the woman. She remained frozen for a moment, fingers bruising Rex's arm with the force of her grip and the needle pricking the crook of his elbow. Then she released him as if his skin burned her. The storm troopers moved forward to release the restraints but Rex couldn't stop shaking.

He stood up and began walking, leaving the stormtroopers behind. There was somewhere he had to go, someone he had to see before he missed his chance. He was only going to be here for a short while and he had to make the most of it—whatever that turned out to be. It was a chance to leave behind some of that loneliness. Rex took a deep calming breath like he did before battle.

 _It shouldn't be this nerve racking! Pull it together,_ verd! He thought to himself. He came out of the hallway onto a long curving terrace with gracefully carved columns supporting the structure above. There was no railing separating him from the four-story drop beyond the edge and nothing interrupted the view all the way to the horizon from his high vantage point.

The sunset across the rolling fields of red and white grasses was exactly the same as the first time he had seen it. Still, he was caught up in the burning patterns of light across the vast expanse of space above him. It looked as if the whole sky was set on fire and frozen in a second.

 _I really have to tell Jaina she's wrong about Shili. What could be more beautiful?_ He thought as he drank in the sight. Soft footsteps reached his ears, approaching from behind him. Rex could almost feel her small form through the empty air between them as she came up to his side.

"Don't worry Rex," she said.

"Worry about what?" He asked in confusion. In that moment he wasn't worried about anything. What would come would come. His future was brighter than it had ever been, because she was standing there next to him.

"It doesn't hurt," she assured him.

"What doesn…" Rex began to ask. Movement in the corner of his eye made him turn to see her knees buckling underneath her and her arms limply falling beside her. He lunged and reached, barely feeling her weight on the armor plates of his arms and chest. Her head fell back, eyes and lips open in a frozen expression of shock. He opened his mouth to cry out to her, but the air in his lungs became solid and suffocating as his eyes fell to the bleeding blackened burn that spread from her shoulder down her chest. It was still red hot from the superheated plasma that had burned straight through her flesh and bone.

 _NO!_ His mind screamed out silently.

Then Rex opened his eyes.

Even muscle of his body was tense and his heart pounded so hard he felt the vibrations in his chest. With every beat his back and his leg ached. The outline of the sprawling acid burn felt like burning tar on his skin and his deaf ear was ringing with a long gone explosion.

Rex was utterly sober, not even the dregs of a painkiller in his system, for the first time in months. He hadn't had a day this bad since the early weeks of his recovery. He had anger enough to dull the agony back then. There was nothing now but cold loneliness.

Slowly Rex managed to push the pain away with sheer will, until he could focus on something—anything else. He took in his dimly lit surroundings. A familiar, grey, nondescript bunk spread over his head at regulation height and a regulation distance separated him from the bunks on either side of the open bed. The familiar silhouette of a brother filled the bed to his left and another to his right but all the other bunks appeared empty. He was in an army Barracks again, one too big to be in Luke's apartment and too still and quiet to be on a cruiser.

For the first time in his life, Rex woke up with no idea what to do or where to go. He had no plans and no orders. It was almost as terrifying as the dream he'd awoken from.

 _What do I do now?_ He thought to himself. Looking up at the grey bottom of the bunk above him, Rex furiously tried to backtrack through the hazy fog of his memories and find his next move.

He could remember most of the evening with Darman in Dul's bar. He moved his jaw a little experimentally and found it still sore from the Commando's beating. The rest of the night was artificially distorted and ended in a vague memory of crashing in a bunk just like the one he was lying in.

But it wasn't the same one. Rex remembered the morning after and his strange visitors, the long transport home,… and Coric. Like in his dream, Rex felt like the air in his lungs had turned solid. As if it had been only minutes ago, he saw Coric's terrified and guilty face right before the hot blue flash of blaster fire filled his vision with sunspots.

 _How long has he been dead?_ Rex wondered. It had been at least a day, because he remembered receiving his demotion and transfer orders. They had come as a dull blow after the death of his oldest _vod._ It had been Coric who patched Rex up after Geonosis, before he had the name Rex, before he was a Captain, before he had figured out who he was. Coric had been his brother then. It only made sense Rex would request the medic for his own Company. Coric had been with Rex through it all—Teth, Umbara,… Ahsoka. No loss of rank could hurt more than that kind of grief.

But even in grief there was a glimmer of hope. Nia's hollow calm expression surfaced through his memories, so different from the vivacious woman who stared out of her personnel file. It seemed obvious in hindsight. All of the signs had been there for Rex to see, and he'd ignored them. If hadn't been for Walli's report, Rex would have been transferred out of Luke's guard and decommissioned before he had a chance to recognize Nia for who she really was. He wouldn't have had the chance to tell Darman how to find his wife. He wouldn't have been able to free Luke from the Empire's clutches. Rex remembered his short call to Kyrimorut—the last haven—the last hope for Rex to find some redemption in his short, bloody existence.

The following morning Rex had cleared out of his office and boarded the transport. He remembered the familiar feeling of the drives vibrating the durasteel under his feet and scanning the troopers in the transport for someone his height and build without finding a single one. But Rex couldn't remember landing or getting off the transport. His memories were foggy and incoherent. A few flashes of recollection came to mind but he wasn't sure if they were before or after he boarded the transport.

 _Why am I still alive?_ Rex asked himself. He understood why he felt the loss of purpose. There was nothing left for him to do. His life was over. Yet he still woke up.

 _Why?_ Rex lay in bed with that question floating in his mind for what felt like hours and seconds all at the same time. He jumped and sat up when the familiar alarm sounded through the barracks. His brother's woke immediately, like they had been trained to their whole lives.

The man on his left groaned. Rex thought he heard a stiffness even in the grunt of exertion. Fox scrubbed his face with his hands and looked around the barracks in confusion, his mouth slightly open and soundless.

The man on Rex's right was slow, fluid and absolutely silent as he sat up. He stared at Rex evenly and sat with such errie stillness Rex recognized him immediately.

"Walli."

"Rex."

"What the _frack_ are you doing here?" Fox growled.

Before Rex had a chance to answer the door of the barracks hissed open and a stormtrooper Commander too tall to be a vod with a slightly lopsided gait marched in. The Commander snapped to attention at the end of Fox's bed and addressed the three of them.

"The Emperor has ordered your presence in his office at 0700. Transport leaves in three minutes from Hanger G-8. If you do not present for transport you will be escorted by force."

"Sir, yes, sir!" The three clones answered habitually, perfectly in sync.

The Commander remained frozen for a moment and Rex would swear he saw the man shudder. He promptly turned and left without a word. The clones became a flurry of practiced movement. Locating their gear in the storage lockers under their beds. Rex frowned when he opened the drawer to see the jumble within. He always packed his kit the same way—always. Even if he didn't remember how he arrived in this barracks, he knew he hadn't stowed his own gear. His helmet was conspicuously absent. From the annoyed _tisk_ noise to his left Fox had found the same things in his own locker. Walli was silent but he didn't put on his helmet either.

There was no time for talk while they suited up. Rex defaulted to Fox's lead as they marched in file to the hanger, though he wasn't sure any of them retained their ranks at this point. Walli followed behind, his steps a bit hurried, out of sync by a fraction of a second. It was something others would overlook but clones heard like an alarm bell. Rex wished he had his bucket so he could ask Walli what was going on and what he was thinking. He wanted his HUD back so he could check the time and the date. Without it Rex felt even more deaf and blind than he already was.

The transport was waiting for them in hanger G-8 and it didn't waste time getting up into the air. The three of them were the only passengers besides the pilot and the Commander who had fetched them. They rose up nearly vertically and circled around into the open air above the controlled sky-lanes. It was restricted airspace, but the pilot plowed on as if it were routine, making a beeline through the mega-structures toward the Senate Building.

The Commander marched them straight up to what had once been the Chancellors office. Rex had stood outside it as Anakin's Captain waiting for his General, he'd passed it more than a hundred times when he worked as a technician in the Senate Building, and even more times as Jaina's Guard. By the time they reached the large, ornate doors, his back was one mass of agony, his leg throbbed with every step, and it was all he could do to keep up with the others. He struggled more with every passing minute to keep the pain off of his face, realizing he'd taken for granted how his helmet hid his expression and his groans of pain. All the way up he could feel Walli's scrutinizing eyes cataloging every falter and wince.

"We'll take it from here, Commander," The trooper stationed at the office doors said firmly. He was wearing the distinctive marks of the Emperor's Personal Guard on his white armor and Rex knew immediately he was a fellow clone. This clone spoke with a strange accent, more Coruscanti than any clone Rex had ever known. He worked hard to keep suspicion off his face which, was easier to do when he was already battling physical pain.

"The Emperor—" The Commander began but the clone guardsman cut him off.

"Only these three were summoned."

"Yes, of course," the Commander backtracked and then hurriedly saluted. He marched off stiffly down the hall, while Rex and his brothers were ushered into the somber office.

The Emperor sat at his impressive desk with the Coruscant skyline behind him in the large floor to ceiling windows. The man himself was hooded and cloaked, only the end of his disfigured chin distinguishable inside the shadows that shrouded his face. Rex swallowed back bile at the faint smell of rotting meat that hit him as he walked in. He wasn't entirely sure it was more than a memory, but it turned his empty stomach none-the-less. The three bareheaded clones lined up and clicked their heals together in perfect unison, standing at attention before their Commander in Chief. The door behind them closed with a solid _thud_ and left ringing silence in it's wake.

Rex felt sweat on his forehead and a tremor in his right hand. His teeth were gritted against the pain that was threatening to make him lightheaded.

"Treason!" The Emperor finally spoke and the word felt like a slap in the face, unexpected and sobering. "Treason is why you are here before us. You are all that remains of the select few we trusted with a vital mission. You have failed us, failed your empire but worse…"

Rex found himself thinking about his dream. _Don't worry, Rex. It doesn't hurt._ He could remember her words, but he couldn't remember the way her voice sounded as she said them. He wanted to hear her say those words again and make him believe them.

"… one of you betrayed your mission and your duty—spilled plans to our enemies and left the heir of this Empire to their mercies!" The Emperor spit out the last word with venomous rage. There was no remorse in his voice. He wasn't grieving the loss of a child. He was enraged at the loss of a tool.

 _Padme Amidala's son deserves better than that! At least_ mando'ade _would treat him like a person—even if the rest of the galaxy would see him as nothing more than a mercenary._ Rex felt bitter anger hotter than the pain in his back rising in his gut. A grim sense of satisfaction came over him at the news that Luke had gotten away. It was more satisfaction than he'd anticipated before dying. But it was short lived

"One of your squad has already paid for this traitor's actions with his life. IT-6779 died of his wounds sustained in the attack. We have already found out that IC-5584 and IC-5586 were a part of this conspiracy against us. They resisted arrest and made it necessary to use lethal force."

 _Kaden and Su'ratin are dead?_ Rex wondered in surprise. He would have though if anyone survived the fallout of his decision it would have been them. They were Mandalorians, true _ramikade._ They would have had a contingency plan for _ba'slan shev'la_ , a silent retreat. They would have had a way to escape even the Empire's retribution.

"But they did not posses the information necessary to organize such a blow to us. Only two of you had access to that information: IT-1010 in your new post as Captain and IT-7567 in your previous post before your reassignment was processed both had access to this information. Yet IT-9991 possessed a copy of this information despite lacking authorization. Would you like to explain how this occurred, IT-9991?"

 _Walli! What have you done?_ Rex felt colder and heavier dread in his stomach smothering his rage and guilt. He couldn't stop himself from turning to Walli. Past Walli's profile he could see Fox had done the same. The accused trooper was frozen, his jaw dropped slightly and trembling. Rex could see sweat on his brother's neck and the red flush of his ears. A vein throbbed visibly in Walli's neck. Rex swallowed reflexively as his own pace sped up. His back throbbed in time with his pumping blood.

"N-no. I didn't—I didn't know the route until we left orbit, just like the rest of the squad." Walli looked frantically to Fox for some kind of support or affirmation. Fox's face was frozen in surprise and suspicion. Walli looked to Rex with an almost accusing look of disbelief. "I didn't," he said again in a soft, breathless voice. The Emperor let a long moment of silence hang, broken only by Walli's panting. The room seemed to get hotter by noticeable degrees with every second.

"The evidence is clear:" the disfigured monarch spoke with concrete surety, "One or both of these officers let sensitive information leave the security of our system—"

"Your system isn't secure," Walli said, in breach of every protocol. "Anyone in the Imperial Army could have sliced into that comm if they knew how. It… it might not—"

"And I suppose," the Emperor's raspy voice cut in, "you have such expertise or you would not know this?"

"I—I wasn't trained for that…"

"But your datapadd is filled with information from secure channels and your helmet systems pick up far more information than you should be privy to."

Rex and Fox just stared at Walli's mouth moving up and down helplessly.

" _Furthermore,_ I find it hard to believe that your Commanding Officers would have no knowledge of your illicit behavior. Why then was it not reported?" Fox's breathing caught in his throat, a barely audible sound of terror. Rex gritted his teeth against the reflex to gag and hurl.

 _I can't be responsible for their deaths too! Fox and Walli had nothing to do with it!_ Rex thought. He turned back to the large regal desk, but before he could open his mouth to speak the memory of Nia's lips on his cheek flashed through his mind so vividly he nearly felt them. He hesitated for a split second, contemplating which brother to betray—the one that had a chance of living out Rex's own dreams or the one that had been his companion through the empty, cold days after the war. In that moment of indecision Walli spoke.

"They didn't!" He cried out in a panicked voice.

 _But I did! From day one, when I commed Gree I knew! I told him I'd protect Walli. I promised,_ Rex thought, but he couldn't work his jaw free to speak.

Huut'uun! _Coward!_ He cursed at himself.

"Is this a confession?" the Emperor asked Walli.

"I-It is," Walli's voice broke. Rex had heard that tone before. It was the same tone Coric had when he spoke those final words.

"I sliced into the secure comm months ago."

 _Not again!_ Rex felt like screaming. Irrationally he was angry, furious. _How could you, Walli? This wasn't your mission. You shouldn't have to die for this… for me!_

"An impressive achievement for a standard Infantry Trooper," the Emperor said but his tone implied it was nothing near a compliment. He sounded as disappointed as a Kaminoan inspecting 'defective' product.

"I've never been _standard._ It was simple, just as easy as slicing into Separatist communications. An adapting-route cypher and a little common sense was all it took." Walli said with bitter pride and a tone of relief. "No point in denying it now." Even Gree hadn't been willing to voice the reality that Walli wasn't an average clone. He was different—and different in their manufactured lives was _worse_ than treason.

"I am an aberrant clone. I'm not ashamed," Walli said, his voice getting horse and tight, "… and I have no regrets."

"Then embrace your fate. Seize him." Two guards descended on Walli and Rex turned before he could stop himself. Walli was on his bad side, next to his deaf ear and foggy eye. He only just saw his brother forced to his knees under the heavy gauntlets of the guards.

"IT-7567," Rex snapped back to attention at his designation. He dutifully looked over the Emperor's head out at the slowly brightening city planet out the window. "It was under your command that this treason occurred. As IT-9991's commanding officer, you will be the one to deliver his sentence."

"Yes, your majesty." The words were automatic, unconscious habit.

"Give him your weapon, trooper," the Emperor said with a wave of his hand to one of the clone guards that stood behind Walli. The white armored man stepped forward and drew his DeeCee 17 blaster pistol. He offered the grip to Rex obediently.

"For your treason, IT-9991, you are sentenced to death." The Emperor hissed out the last word with vicious satisfaction and something bordering on excited anticipation. Rex looked down at the weapon and saw his own hand rising up to take it. Past it he could see his bother's head upheld and the straightforward gaze of his glassy eyes.

 _Walli didn't do it!_ _I need to confess; I can't let Walli die for my crime._ One part of his mind yelled.

 _If you confess Darman and Etain will be hunted down. Kad will be taken away from them and used just like they would have used Luke—like they will use him if I let them find him again. I have to do this! I have to keep my silence!_ Another part urged.

His hand was poised over the grip and he had a sudden vision of Coric lying in a spreading pool of blood on the hard floor of his office. Everything had been over for him in a second.

 _It would be easy,_ his mind whispered. _No more nightmares._

But as his hand fell on the familiar solidity of the grip, he remembered where the nightmares came from. They came from the war, the government, the Senate, the Emperor…the very room he was standing in. Rex was standing right before the man who created his life, tore it apart, condemned him to hell…

 _I wonder if I'd get off more than two shots before they take me down. Would that even make a Sith flinch?_ He wondered. He'd watched General Skywalker bat away volleys of blaster fire for years like they were no more than a child's snowballs.

"With all due respect, your majesty," Fox's voice made Rex freeze. "IT-9991 was under my command and it was my squad that unsuccessfully fought off the Mandalorian attack. If I might respectfully ask for the privilege; it was my man that died out there."

Rex stood frozen with his hand on the weapon but his grip only barely holding it. He didn't dare look up to peer into the Emperor's hood at the Sith's expression.

"Very well," The Emperor conceded somberly. Rex pulled his hand away from the weapon quickly like he had been released from someone's iron grip on his wrist.

 _What was I just about to do?_ He wondered, heart racing. He was still embroiled in his own confusion when he caught the movement in the corner of his bad eye—just a white blur.

A white armored figure slammed into the guard beside Rex and wrenched the offered weapon out of his hand. In a well-drilled, fluid move, Walli raised the stolen weapon toward the large desk and the hooded figure beyond it.

"No!" Rex yelled and reacted on instinct, diving forward to restrain the rouge trooper. Fox lunged at the same time, grabbing Walli's arms and dragging his aim up, over the Emperor's head. Rex got his arms around Walli's torso, pulling him back and off balance. Amid the metallicsounds of raising weapons, disengaging safeties, and the hard smack of plastoid armor against plastoid, the _bzaap_ of a discharging blaster went off, making Rex's good-ear ring. Walli sagged in his arms and the weapon in his hand clattered to the floor, cold. Rex could now see there wasn't even a power pack in it. The weapon was harmless.

 _So who fired?_ He wondered.

Walli gave a choking cough that could have been a laugh. Rex stared down at his friend and brother who was leaning into his arms. Walli had a tight grip on Fox's chest and shoulder plate. His wide terrified eyes looked right at Fox, unblinking and his lips struggled to form words. All that came out was a trickle of red liquid. Walli coughed again wetly, spraying droplets of red across Fox's pristine armor. Then he collapsed. Rex's arms gave way when Walli's weight wrenched his back into dizzying agony. Fox just let the body fall.

"I see justice has been served," the Emperor's paper dry voice broke the frozen moment. Fox and Rex looked up from the body at their feet simultaneously.

"I believe you have both shown your true colors today, and loyalty will be rewarded." The Emperor turned to his guards. "Have IT-1010 and IT-7567 escorted back to the barracks and their suspensions lifted."

"Yes, your Majesty," the guard who had held Walli down answered in his strange Coruscanti accent, as he engaged the safety on his faintly smoking blaster and holstered it.

The disarmed guard got to his feet and brushed himself off. He stepped irreverently over Walli's body and the shiny patch on the dark carpet. Rex wondered how much blood that floor it was hiding—how much of his brothers' blood… The guard retrieved his weapon and loaded a power pack before returning it to his belt.

"Dismissed," the Emperor said offhandedly. Both guards led Rex and Fox out of the Emperor's large office. As they passed through the heavy doors a cleaning droid was ushered in behind them. Rex watched it pass and forced himself not to look back at Walli's sprawled body on the floor. The doors closed with their resounding _thud._ Rex followed Fox mechanically trying to focus on the pain in his back and his leg and not the droid dragging his brother away like another piece of waste—a slaughtered animal killed for sport. He failed.

Fox and Rex were silent until they were put on the transport back to the barracks. This time there was only the pilot with them, shut away in his cockpit. Rex had lost consciousness of the world around him. He was trying to remember how he'd felt after his call to _Kyrimorut_. He was trying to remember how satisfied he'd felt knowing that Luke would soon be safely out of the Empire's reach. Desperately he searched for the peaceful feeling he'd gone to sleep with his last night in Luke's apartment. It all eluded him.

"It wasn't the Mandalorians."

"What?" Rex asked when Fox's voice pulled him out of thought.

"Ven. The Mandalorians didn't kill Ven. His wound wasn't fatal."

Rex looked over at Fox. His brother was staring across the empty bay of the transport at something beyond the durasteel hull. His brow was furrowed and his frown was pulling deep lines on his face.

"They shouldn't have died. _None of them_ should have died."

For once, Rex heard his own voice in Fox. He could remember saying those same words many times.

 _They shouldn't have died and I should have. They're dead but I'm not. Where is the justice in that? Where is the reason?_ Rex found himself thinking. All his satisfaction and acceptance was gone, replaced with bitter guilt and a deep, slow, corrosive anger. He was angry with himself for not thinking of his brothers first, angry with himself for being powerless to save them, and angry at himself for surviving. Coric's dull eyed, sightless stare, Walli's blood splattering white plastoid, Fives' unfocused, searching gaze, burnt siena skin weeping plasma and blood… The cycle of nightmare recollections filled his eyes and no amount of rubbing would get them out. His back ached like there were knives in his spine. And the smell of burning flesh following him like a ghost, lingered in his nose.

.

End Part I

.

Author's Note: Ok sorry for the super-depressing end. For the kind reviewer who thought it was going to be Walli next, you were close! As for the Nulls, they are very hard _shabuire_ to get rid of. Is it awful I made up all of those troopers on Rex's squad just to kill them? Maybe a little? I promise no one dies in the next few chapters… I think… ? I'm not always this depressing I swear. T.T I hope you enjoyed it anyway. –Em


	10. Chapter 10

Author's Note: First of all, sorry there was no update last week. I got a bit behind in writing this. I don't seem to be able to write short chapters for some reason… yeah. I know it's my own fault. (Writing is hard god d**** it!) But good news, it's getting close to the holidays which means no classes and less work, so more time to write! Hopefully we'll be well on our way through Part II by the end of the year and on to Part III, which I am super excited to write. For anyone who loves to throw unlikely characters into the same plot and watching the madness that ensue, you'll like what I have planned. (And for all you KT fans, there is lots of the Kyrimorut Crew in the coming chapters.)

Secondly, thank you to everyone who has read this far. This started as a few plot bunnies running around my head and plans for a series of one-shots. Now it's a 60k plus collection of stories. I swear plot bunnies breed exponentially. In a universe like Star Wars, there's lots for them to feed on of course. I'm glad you're enjoying the results.

A special BIG thank you to my wonderfully kind reviewers: **Ahsoka1996, scottusa1, Wolfwarrioress, Lillie-wan Kenobi, CaptainRex12,** and **Iluvpeacocks11.** Even if it's just a few words, I really appreciate them. They make my day.

Thirdly(?), Welcome to Part II! This is purely for referential reasons. There's a time skip here- thus it's a new part of the story. I anticipate three parts with maybe an epilogue/part four.

Fourth: Sorry, no Ahsoka this chapter, but an old "friend" comes into the story. Ny from Kyrimorut is going to play a bigger role for a little while and we'll have a few detours back to Mandalore. Meanwhile Rex and Fox have some issues to iron out; Ahhh, family drama. Enjoy. –November

 **.**

 **Remnants  
Part II**

 **.**

 ** _six months later_**

 **.**

 **Chapter 10: Questions**

.

The tall, thin—almost emaciated—woman had a piercing gleam in her pale eyes that unnerved Bedjiim, an unfamiliar feeling for the toydarian. He was used to dealing with hard people and being the intimidator–it came with the territory. In the little port town of Kumaai he controlled 40% of the money flow that supported the haven of illegal business. In this backwater at least, he was a bad person to displease. It helped that most of the residents and regulars didn't know a thing about toydarians. A creature you couldn't predict by their expression was scary to any being. They didn't know the involuntary flick of his wings was a sign of discomfort. This woman though smirked a little more every time the gauzy appendages gave him away. She was something different, even from the usual bounty hunters he contracted.

"You come well recommended," he said, watching for some reaction on her sharply featured face.

"For good reason." She replied evenly.

"Not a lot of work for someone with your skillset this far out."

"Except for you?" she shot back smoothly but a little too quickly.

 _So you don't_ want _to be here,_ Bedjiim thought with a little satisfaction. That might prove useful information later.

"Well, this is a unique case," he told her. "I'm a businessman and I know the perils of mixing business and pleasure. But this particular creature has been a thorn in my side for too long. No more second changes. So, maybe this is a bit of both."

"I don't really care what your beef is. I'm here to do a job."

"Of course. I respect professionalism. His name is Djela Kur—an Ilothorian. He makes a decent amount of profit off the carbonite freezing business here. His particular skills are what has allowed him so much leniency in the past."

"Like I said."

"Yes, of course. My people tracked Djela to the Dara system a few days ago but he gave them the slip. I don't trust these goons any father than that—thus the necessity of the bounty."

"That's not much to go on."

"We did capture an associate of his. He claims to know nothing and I haven't been able to persuade him to change his story."

"He'll talk to me."

"I'm quite sure he knows nothing of value. I'm a very persuasive person."

"We will see. Show him to me."

Bedjiim frowned and scrutinized the utterly calm woman before him. Each of his seven guards had easily triple her weight and carried twice the fire power, even if the sleek, expensive blasters on her hips weren't her only weapons. But she looked utterly unconcerned by her dangerous situation. Her gaze never left Bedjiim's, even to watch the pacing mercenaries at every door like any other bounty hunter he'd ever interviewed.

"Bring the prisoner," he said over his shoulder and one of his men hurried down a dark hallway. He returned quickly, half-leading, half-dragging a dark skinned man with a shinny bald head who stumbled on an injured leg. His face was nearly indistinguishable through the molting of blue and black bruises. One of his pale grey eyes was swollen shut and the other swiveled around madly, wide with terror.

Bedjiim motioned vaguely to the tiled floor before his perch and the mercenary shoved the prisoner none too kindly before his employer.

"His name is Borin, He's a freighter…"

"No he isn't."

Bedjiim was shocked at being interrupted and stared openly at the bounty hunter before remembering to be insulted.

"You haven't seen this man for more than a minute!"

"And already I know more than you do. Whatever it is he's hiding from you, he's willing to die for it. As long as he knows something of value you'll keep him alive, at least until you force it out of him or find Djela Kur. But if you believe he knows nothing you'll kill him and anything he's hiding dies with him."

The man's wide eyes were focused now entirely on the bounty hunter. Bedjiim could tell that he feared this new tormentor in a completely different way than he feared Bedjiim. The prisioner feared the physical violence that he promised but the bounty hunter posed a threat to whatever was more important than his own suffering. This strange, alien woman already knew more after a few minutes about a captive he had interrogated for hours.

Bedjiim motioned openly toward his prisoner with a nod to the bounty hunter. She smiled thinly—a cold expression that sent another involuntary shiver through his wings. He was gladder than he wanted to admit that the bounty hunter had someone else to focus on.

"What is your name?" She asked evenly. The man opened his mouth and floundered a moment for words. Then he snapped his jaw closed and pressed his good eye and lips firmly shut.

 _"_ _What is your name?"_ the bounty hunter asked again. The man shook his head.

 _"_ _It's a simple question."_

"Sayne!" The word forced itself from reticent lips. "My name is Sayne Heeran," he admitted, deflated and exhausted—panting as if he had been physically exerting himself.

The bounty hunter swaggered forward to the cowering prisoner and crouched down so they were at an even eye-height. Her voice, when she spoke was soft and the natural rasp of it deepened in some mockery of kindness.

"Sayn, I'm not the kind of person you lie to. Now I won't ask you more than once. I will find Djela Kur with or without your answer. Tell me anything other than the truth or leave anything out and I will make your end very painful—I'd even take pleasure in doing that. Either way, I win. You don't care for Djela anymore than this _sleemo."_ Bedjiim straighter and gave an irritated growling buzz.

"So tell me," she went on, ignoring him, "where can I find Djela Kur?"

For a long moment the man looked back into the bounty hunter's pale hard eyes. Bedjiim watched the color draining from the man's warm brown skin so the fresh bruises stood out more starkly in contrast. He gulped painfully. The dry sound was loud in the dead silent room.

"Catharia," he answered in a trembling whisper.

"Thank you," the bounty hunter said with vicious satisfaction. She turned away and stood. The moment she broke eye contact, the man gasped, as if released from some paralysis. An expression of terrible realization came over his face and he gritted his teeth. He glared at the bounty hunter's back, his face twitching with anger and hatred.

Bedjiim hurried to hide his expression of shock.

"I see you are well equipped for the task," he said as evenly as he could manage.

"I'll bring you Kur."

"There's a bonus if he's alive."

"I'll see what I can do."

"Of course." Bedjiim said but she had already turned and started striding out of his compound, not waiting to be escorted out. He frowned at her back, almost as disturbed as the prisoner at his feet. With a harsh flutter of his wings he shook himself back into the present. He looked down at the man who had collapsed with his head in his hands.

"Get him out of my sight!" He hissed angrily at his guards and took comfort and satisfaction when they jumped at his orders. He could get rid of one troublesome prisoner, he'd soon have Djela Kur, and then the bounty hunter could become a long forgotten memory. That was something to look forward to.

.

Rex stumbled over the doorstep of Dul's bar. He grabbed the nearest chair to steady himself and shook his head. He didn't think he had taken _that_ much of the painkillers he'd filched from the barracks storeroom. It had been a while since he replenished his illicit stash though. He had to take advantage of his time in the Core while he could. He'd be back out in another nameless backwater soon enough riding supply freighters back and forth through dead space. Not much access to meds there. He substituted as he could.

At least his back didn't hurt and his demons stayed buried, if only in shallow graves.

As he stumbled up to the bar the patrons took one look at his white armor and cleared his path—that was the best perk of being a stormtrooper. He pulled off his helmet and slid it over to the scarred bartender. Dul's face looked more drawn and creased than Rex remembered it.

"Haven't seen you in a while, _vod,_ " Dul said, taking the helmet and just leaning across the bar for a moment. "I hope you didn't think you were banned last time I kicked you out."

"I started a fight," Rex said shaking his head. "Fair's fair. I just got deployed off TripZip, that's all."

"You ever make peace with that buddy of yours? Dar was his name, right?"

"Darman… No. I haven't heard from him since." Rex looked down at his hand running across the edge of the bar, leaving a visible trail in the grease. Thinking of Darman reminded him of Etain. Etain reminded him of Walli. Thinking of Walli, he saw the splatters of blood on his brother's white armor all over again. He smelled burnt rotting flesh and his spinning head had nothing to do with the drugs.

"Alright, _Re'ika_ ," Dul said softly, barely audible over the buzz of conversation. "I can see you've had a hard time of it." He pushed a glass of honey colored liquid across the bar. Rex caught sight of the bottle's flashy florescent label as Dul shelved it under the table.

"You know I can't pay you for that," Rex said.

"You're gonna need it."

" _Vore, ner vod,_ " Rex said. He picked up the glass, but before it touched his lips he saw a familiar straight-backed figure in the far corner of the room looking right back at him.

"What the _frack_ is he doing here?" Rex demanded in a harsh biting hiss.

Dul glanced backward over his shoulder, the stalk of his mechanical eye swiveling disturbingly in its artificial socket.

"Said he was here to see you actually," Dul said evenly. His single red eye swiveled back to pierce Rex questioningly. The bartender tilted his head a little and if he'd still had eyebrows one of them would have been raised. Instead the cratered scar tissue that covered the top half of his face just twitched over the empty eye-socket.

"That lying _chakaar!"_ Rex growled. He downed the glass in his hand in one motion, slammed it on the bar and stalked off toward the corner table.

The clone sitting the the gloom was holding a glass of the cloudy, bluish moonshine Dul made in his basement. He had rigid posture even when he was relaxing and his hair was neatly combed in regulation style—nothing out of place.

"You're late," Fox said with a disdainful look at Rex. "If I really had been Gree, I'd be upset."

"But you aren't," Rex growled. He'd thought it odd that Gree asked to meet at Dul's bar. Now it made sense. He certainly wouldn't have come if Fox had asked him outright. There were few people in the galaxy that Rex wanted to see less that Fox. He was glad he'd taken the extra painkillers.

"I'm not even surprised," Fox said impassively. "I always said you didn't belong in Alpha's training squad, even if you did swallow his Mando propaganda like a thirsty bantha."

" _Shabii'gar!_ "

"I want answers first."

"I don't have to tell you a _karking_ thing," Rex snapped and turned around. He knew what Fox was going to ask and it set his heart pounding.

"It doesn't even bother you does it?" Fox's words were rough with anger he rarely let out of his rigid control.

Rex stopped. He wondered if Dul really would ban him when he punched Fox or skipped the pleasantries and just shot the lying soldier. Rex's hand twitched toward the blaster on his hip.

"All of the brothers you've gotten killed, men you were supposed to protect, that doesn't mean a thing to you."

"I could ask you the same thing," Rex said softly but no less vehemently.

"Is this about that rogue ARC or the Jedi?"

"Fives, his name was Fives." Rex snapped turning around, hand going to his weapon out of sheer habit. He could hardly see Fox or Dul's bar past the memories of holding his brother. A dead body felt nothing like a sleeping one. There was no small movement of breath or heartbeat and no tension or response in the muscles. Fives had just been still and limp in Rex's arms.

"I know what his name was; _Nu'digu!"_

Rex was momentarily shocked by the use of the foreign language. He often forgot that Fox knew _mando'a_ as well as he did. Rex didn't think he'd ever heard him use it.

"I remember all of them," Fox went on, his identical eyes boring into Rex's. "Have you memorized all the names on that list of yours?" Rex flinched. He didn't know Fox had worked out what he kept on his personal datapad.

"How long is it by now? Did you put Coric's name on there? What about Walli? He died for you! Did you put Kaden and Su'ratin on it? And Ven! They were innocent and their deaths are on you!"

" _Ne'johaa!_ Just shut up! You don't know the half of what happened!"

"So tell me! No place better." Fox held out his hand to indicate the smoky bar of criminals and under-city hustlers.

"There's just the problem that I don't trust you!" Rex said evenly.

"That makes two of us!" Fox replied, surprisingly casual and amiable. He slid an empty glass across the table and poured out a portion of the strong smelling alcohol. He sat back as much as his ram-rod posture allowed and looked expectantly at Rex.

Rex considered punching Fox right then. He hated having to justify himself to Fox but the false accusations stung almost as much as the founded ones. It was a combination of guilt and pride that moved Rex to take the seat across from Fox. He looked out at the bar when he finally found his voice again.

"For one, you must not know Mandalorians as well as you think if you believe Kaden and Su'ratin are dead. The _Cuy'val Dar_ trained those boys to survive. They would have known it was time for a quiet getaway, _ba'slan shev'la._ The Empire just doesn't have anyone to send after them with any hope of success. They're spread thin as it is trying to hold this farce of a democracy together. But they won't admit any of that." Rex conceded most of that was wishful thinking—unless the stories about Walon Vau, the Mandalorian who had trained the two Commando's, were true.

"And Ven?" Fox asked.

"That one is on me," Rex sighed and forced himself to look Fox in the eyes. "I never wanted any of my men caught in the crossfire."

"But they _weren't_ your men. They were _mine!_ "

" _Ni ceta, vod_. He was your friend and his death was my fault." Rex couldn't keep his eyes from falling down to his drink.

"But you still don't regret what you did." Fox said it as a statement not a question. Rex considered lying for a moment.

"No," he said honestly, raising his gaze evenly to Fox's furious expression. It was disconcerting to see the mirror image of his own face twisted with so much hate it was almost unrecognizable.

"Was the money that good?" Fox spit out, losing the last shred of his ever-present composure. "Certainly explains how you keep up your expensive 'habits!'"

" _Frack you!"_ The response was automatic. "I didn't make a cred off it! You really must have a low opinion of me to think I'd stoop to _that_."

"Then set me right. What really happened to Kahn and the child?"

The two men stared at each other across the table, each waiting for the other to blink first.

"Fine!" Fox looked away, scowling and bitter. "Keep your secrets."

Rex swallowed and his convictions wavered.

"Coric said the same thing to me when he joined the guard. Used to be there were no secrets between _vode_ , there wasn't room for them. Now it seems we all have them."

"And Coric's?"

"They ate him up until he couldn't take it anymore—poor _shabuir_."

"I suppose that one's not your fault either?"

"I don't know," Rex shook his head. He couldn't count the number of times in the past months he'd replayed the days before Coric's death in his mind. But he wasn't Walli—his memory was imperfect and drug addled. "I really don't. I almost wish I knew what could have saved him."

"Was he part of it—whatever it is you're mixed up in?"

"No," Rex said firmly and Fox seemed to believe him. Brothers had a hard time lying to each other—even two as different as Fox and Rex.

"And Walli?"

"Walli did what he did for his own reasons and I don't understand them anymore than you. He wasn't part of it—I would never have dragged one of my brothers into my own treason!"

"Wouldn't be the first time," Fox said over the rim of his glass as he sipped at the murky liquid.

"What?" Rex demanded, his blood boiling.

"I know what happened on Umbara. You let someone else take the fall for that too."

The very mention of the planet had a sobering effect on Rex. He shut his eyes against the flashes of memory as dim and indistinct as the smoky bar.

"I _should_ have been the one to shoot Krell, you're right. I learned my lesson."

"So if Walli wasn't part of it. Explain this:" Fox put down his drink and sat forward, lowering his voice and tone. "I did some digging. It wasn't easy to find but I pulled the reports on our debriefings after the kidnapping." Rex leaned in.

"What do you remember about it?" Fox asked.

 _So he has the same suspicions,_ Rex though. "Nothing after boarding the transport from Luke's apartment or before waking up in the barracks with you and Walli. You?"

"Same. My memory blacks out just after we reached the Tauu-Reish system. I don't even remember being taken into custody."

"It wasn't a standard debriefing," Rex said cautiously. "But what about that assignment was standard?"

"Nothing! But that isn't even the strange part. Your report and Walli's are _banthadung!_ Anyone who knew either of you could tell that. There's more lies than truths in there." Fox shifted uncomfortably in a way that unsettled Rex. Anything that shook up "Commander Calm" couldn't be good. "Mine and Ven's are more truthful than they should be."

"What do you mean?"

"Like you said. We all have secrets now," Fox looked away for a second.

 _What are yours?_ Rex wondered but kept his mouth shut. Fox wasn't outright prying so he deserved that at least.

"I'm sure you knew brothers who were more than just _close_ ," Fox said hesitantly, gauging Rex's expression carefully.

Rex was surprised by the question, then defensive.

"We were fighting a bloody, hopeless war—struggling to survive everyday in a living hell. I wasn't about to take away any shred of joy my men found out there." It was truth. Sometimes Rex even envied those of his brothers that were more interested in 'their own kind' as one such trooper had put it than the females they saw in hollo vids. They had tenderness and affection that most of his men never knew.

"Things weren't exactly relaxing here either," Fox agreed with visible relief. "I looked the other way, but no one admitted to it—ever! So why would this debriefing be any different?"

"You…" For a moment Rex tried to imagine how he had missed that in the straight-laced former-Commander.

"Ven."

 _That makes a lot more sense_ , Rex thought.

"But I would never give him up," Fox insisted. "He was my brother, my oldest brother—one of my batch."

"What are you getting at? You gave him up in that debriefing?" Rex had often thought Fox was heartless and cruel but never un-loyal to his men. That kind of infraction got men 'decommissioned'. Ven was as close to Fox as Coric had been to Rex. It just didn't make sense.

"It was in the report. Ven admitted it himself." Fox was looking down at the table, his brow furrowed and deep in thought.

"You think that's why he died?"

"I told you. It wasn't the Mandalorians. I did the first-aid myself. I've seen men in worse shape than that pull through. He should have lived."

Rex felt a small part of his burden lift. Ven's death wasn't his fault, at least no entirely. Darman and his family hadn't tried to kill anyone on his word.

"I have my own secrets—ones I would die to protect," Fox said, pulling Rex back to the present.

"She have a name?" His alcohol loosened tongue asked before he could bite it.

"To quote you: _Shabii'gar!_ " Fox glared across the table. Rex leaned back and held his hands up in surrender.

"I want to know why I spilled my greatest secrets and you lied through every benign question."

"I don't know. I told you—I don't remember anything!"

"Either you're still lying now… or someone doctored the reports."

"You think someone is protecting me."

"Wouldn't be the first time you got special treatment." Fox said. It was no secret that Rex had gotten reassigned after he was decommissioned instead of sent back to Kamino.

"I didn't ask for Skywalker to do what he did. I would have preferred he let me die on that sinking wreck."

"It certainly would have saved me a lot of pain," Fox agreed.

 _You wouldn't be the only one,_ Rex thought. Without him Coric could have had a Captain who saw his pain. Without him Kaden and Su'ratin wouldn't be on the run or dead. Without him Walli and Ven would never have been found out for their aberrance. Without him Ahsoka wouldn't have gotten away on Shili. _Yeah,_ Rex thought, _dying for my brothers would have been better. Ahsoka would have hated hearing that._ For a moment that thought stung. Then he remembered that she was his enemy. The pain faded as quickly as it came.

" _Why_ would someone protect me?" Rex asked, shaking off the morbid thoughts.

"More importantly, _who."_ Fox said half under his breath. "That's what I really want to know. Whoever it was knows what was in the original reports."

Rex felt blood draining from his face. He hated to think what he might have said if Ven gave up secrets that got him killed. The implications went farther than his treason. Rex knew about Darman's son and the Commando's defection. He knew who Nia Kahn really was and Luke's parentage. He knew of Kyrimorut—even had contact with them. If he put the Empire on that trail it would lead to all of them. They were the closest thing Rex had to family.

"If I knew anything I would tell you," he told Fox honestly.

"I believe you," Fox said bitter and disappointed. "But I need answers. Who did it, why, and how?"

"What did the report say? It had to list an interrogator, a facility, something to go on."

Fox made a dismissive noise and pulled a datapadd out of his belt pouch for Rex to look at. It had Rex and Walli's interrogation reports. A quick glance down the summary proved Fox right; one in three lines had any scrap of truth.

"Whoever it is doesn't know me very well."

In the fields where the interrogator's name, the facility, and department should have been four letters were repeated: ORSA

"What is OhAreEsAey?" Rex asked.

"Have you ever heard of it?"

"No."

"Neither had I until I until I got reassigned." Fox glowered into his drink. "For the past six month's while you've been taking a tour of the outer rim I've been overseeing Prison Transport in the Militia District—mostly moving people from one detention facility to another. But sometimes we get special orders to deliver small numbers—sometimes individuals—to an unmarked civilian location outside of the district. There are patterns in those prisoners. I see people go in looking like POWs and come out as passive as a nuna. I've seen angry dissidents go in and upstanding citizens scheduled for release come out. Traitors go in and within a week resume their posts without trial."

 _Or a Jedi mother goes out and a caretaker for a stolen child comes out,_ Rex thought, remembering Etain's vivid eyes in her perssonel file hollo.

"All of their files have that designation," Fox said and pointed at the four letters stamped across Rex's interrogation report: ORSA.

"What does OhAreEsAey do?"

"I haven't been able to find any information about it."

"It's classified?"

"No. It doesn't exist. There are no records in the system at all. Whatever happens there is more protected than that child we were protecting. I understand why. Can you imagine the outrage if the civi's knew what was happening?"

"I guess they'd get pretty upset about being treated like droids." _Or clones,_ Rex add wryly in his head. "Any theories on what they're doing?"

"Using the Force to interrogate suspects. Jedi could make people talk and alter their memories."

"No. That isn't it."

"How do you know?"

"Because I know what that feels like. Ventress tried it on me on Teth. It's not something you forget and it doesn't go away. I'd know if someone was rummaging around in my head again."

"I'll take your word for it. I didn't thing that explained it either. At first I thought drugs."

"Than it's no drug I've ever heard of—it's too reliable. None of us had side effects."

"Except memory loss."

"That was too precise. I'd bet every cred I've every seen that was intentional."

"That's what I thought. I don't have an explanation for what happened to us and I don't like it. The GAR was transparent—or so I thought. Now we have no privacy even in our own minds."

"We're clones, _vod._ Our lives have never belonged to us."

"We still had free will! We still had choice—even if it was just the choice between shooting out the enemy's brains or our own."

Rex flinched. _We did always have that choice, right Coric?_ He thought. He drained his glass and refilled it. He emptied it again before he let his mind wander over the past again.

"You didn't know Coric very well did you?" Rex asked at length.

"He wasn't very social." Fox said frowning in confusion.

"He used to be." Rex poured himself another glass as he talked—fighting to stay detached. "He served under me since my first day sin the 501st. We were the last brothers who had survived Christophsis and Teth. Now I'm the only one left.

"Coric was no coward and he lived through the worst hell. I might carry the guilt for the men I lost but he held their hands as they died, arrived too late, and had to choose who could be saved and who couldn't every day of the damned war. He never broke. Not after three years on the front line. You'd think that life would drain the compassion out of a man—but not Coric. He would have left his blaster behind to carry more medical supplies if I'd let him. Anytime we were fighting wets I could see him hesitate. More than any of us he knew the pain he was inflicting—that's what tore him up. That's the brother I knew. And they sent that man to slaughter younglings—Jedi or not."

"So that's why he was assigned to guarding the kid—he couldn't do it?"

"No." Rex shook his head and finished his drink before he answered. "Coric followed his orders to the letter."

"You must not have known him as well as you think."

"Coric wouldn't kill innocent children anymore than you would rat our a brother—no more than I would shoot someone I cared for." Rex was surprised by his own words and shut his mouth with a snap too late to stop them.

Fox stared at him across the grimy table with dark, unreadable eyes. Rex felt transparent. Fox was seeing something past him that wasn't really there.

"You're saying we're being… controlled?" Fox spoke finally, soft and gave. "Not just in these interogations but… before?"

"You didn't listen to Fives did you?" Rex said, shaking his head with some kind of mock humor.

Fox answered with a defensive note in his voice Rex heard in his own talking about Walli and the commandos. "He was raving mad."

"He was right! He said there was a plot to destroy the Jedi, that the Chancellor was involved and so were we. Now the Jedi are gone, we became their executioners and the Chancellor turned out to be a Force wielding despot. Ever thought that it's a bit convenient that a war spreads the Jedi all across the galaxy and surrounds them with the very men who end up killing each and every one of them? Then the war inexplicably ends with one man in control of most of the galaxy."

"That's treasonous talk, Rex."

"And having a copy of these files isn't treason?" Rex asked, waving his hand at Fox's datapad between them. "Much less showing them to me."

Fox frowned.

"We're in the same boat now, _ner vod,_ " Rex said with dark satisfaction and tipped his glass to Fox, the moonshine sloshing close to the edge of the chipped glass.

"I assume you're in then."

"In what?" Rex asked, cup nearly to his lips.

"I'm going to find out what OhAreEsAey is and what happened to Ven. I _have_ to—not just for him. There are other… things that I need to protect. Are you going to help me or go back to drowning your guilt in alcohol and anesthetics?"

 _What is worth dying for to you?_ Rex wondered. He was starting to see something more than the rule-bound Commander Fox pretended to be. Finding the interrogator would mean finding out what happened to Ven, Walli and Etain, maybe even Coric. Rex could find out what secrets he might have spilled in the unorthodox debriefing. Until he did Luke, Etain, Darman, Kad, Kom'rk and everyone at Kyrimorut could be in danger.

"How can I help?"

"It's easy enough even you can do it," Fox said ruefully. Rex nearly took back every kind thought he'd had toward Fox that evening. The Alcohol was definitely messing with his mind. For a moment he wondered what he'd just gotten involved in. Then he wondered how his life could get any worse and didn't have an answer.

.

It was the look on Ny's face when she answered her com that bothered Skirata. It was becoming easier to think that Ny didn't have a life outside of Kyrimorut and hauling basic supplies for the bastion. She'd left most of her legitimate business behind and spent the majority of her time on Madalore since the war ended. But every so often and without warning remnants of her past would drag themselves up. Every time they did Kal could see a difference in her, more than just grief rearing it's ugly head; He knew what that looked like from personal experience. At those times she was somewhere light-years away, even sitting in the _karyai_ surrounded by the family that had all but officially adopted her.

Breakfast was underway and festive when she got the call. She, Besany, and Ordo, had just returned from a supply run and brought back a heaping package of fine pastries in every sweet and sugary flavor the galaxy could concoct. It put everyone in a jovial mood. The whole bastion was gathered around the long table, passing around plates of flaky treats. Darman and Scout sat at one end of table with Kad in his father's lap and Luke settled in the girl's arms. Kad was happily demanding his favorites while Laseema offered bits of new flavors to Luke. The quiet child responded with grimaces or happy fist pumping to each new treat.

Ruu was sitting next to Kal instead of what had become her usual seat next to her lover, Cov. She sat with her back to him and the other end of the table where he and the rest of Yayax squad. Cov was sandwiched between his bothers like they were holding him down. He glanced frequently up at Ruu's back then quickly away. Kal could guess why the change. It was hard not to know each other's lives intimately with so many people living packed in together. So there was a fair amount of feigned ignorance from all parties at Kyrimorut.

Ruu animatedly told Kal stories of her life before he rescued her from a Republic POW facility. Back then the change just to hold and talk to his daughter excited Kal. He drank up her stories gladly. But with time they gained a bittersweet edge. He still yearned desperately to know her better, but with that came the constant reminder of the time spent estranged. Worst were the stories of her rocky teenage years. Even if she made light of them for his sake, they stabbed the part of him that still felt guilty for how his first marriage ended. Even if she never mentioned it, his absence in those particular stories was inescapable. She kept telling them to reconcile the father she was coming to know with the one she barely remembered and he kept listening out of vital curiosity, taking the pain gladly.

The sound of Ny's comm going off barely carried over the noise around the crowded table. Kal gave her only a fleeting look as she stood and ducked into the quieter hallway.

"Hello, Ny speaking," Kal heard her answer in her usual manner. She leaned against the doorway, close enough to still be on the periphery of the happy meal.

Her contented expression fell instantly at the response only she could hear. She ducked her head when she responded, hiding her lips so he couldn't read them. Her hushed voice was lost in the din of the _karyai._ When she looked up though he could see the laugh lines around her mouth were etched deep in a mockery of joy. Her jaw was tight and her eyes flickered back and forth down the hallway like she didn't know where she was. This remnant wasn't bringing up introspection or nostalgia. This was fear.

Ruu's words faded away as Kal watched Ny's face crumple into grief and her head dropped, short grey bangs hiding her face and any response.

"Dad? What's wrong?" Ruu asked. Kal licked his lips and searched for a lie. He tried to tell himself that Ny's problems were her own, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from her slumped shoulders.

When she raised her head again, her face was resigned, and she spoke in the com softly one last time. He caught the words on her lips.

 _"_ _Alright, I'll be there. Alone."_

"Nothing," Kal answered Ruu softly, turning away from Ny just before she looked up. He could almost feel her gaze sweeping over him and the rest of the oblivious family. "What were you saying?" Kal asked his daughter, trying to feign interest. The face Ruu was giving him wasn't helping. She had her eyebrows raised and her mouth quirked in the same dubious expression he gave any pile of reeking _osik_ put before him.

Ny slid into her seat across from the father and daughter with a preoccupied far away expression. Ruu turned away from Kal toward the woman, and Kal suppressed a groan. Ruu knew exactly what was bothering him.

"Bad news?" Ruu asked. Ny jumped when she realized she was being addressed.

"What?"

"Your call? Was it bad news?"

"No," Ny shook her head. "Just and old friend asking for a favor." The way she said friend had Kal fighting back a slew of prying questions.

"Are you going to do it?" He asked before he could stop himself, hoping she had been lying a moment ago.

"I…I haven't decided yet," Ny said, turning her pastry over on her plate absently.

"Well if you need and extra hand or blaster…" Kal was halfway through his offer when Ny cut him off.

"It's nothing like that, Kal."

'I just meant if you needed help, all you have to do is say."

"No." Ny said it a bit sharply, them more kindly added, "but thank you for the offer."

Kal just nodded gravely. He still had a sinking feeling about the whole thing. It took a surprising amount to shake the old pilot—her easy transition into the militaristic life on Mandalore was evidence enough of that. She had calmly harbored Jedi fugitives and spied on galactic governments for rogue soldiers before that.

This 'friend' had her shaken and that angered Kal more than it probably should. But he wasn't one to argue with his feelings.

It wasn't hard to keep an eye on Ny the rest of the day. When Parja mentioned Ny requesting her to give the Cornicopia's sub-light engines a rush tune-up he knew Ny had made up her mind.

"My offer still stands," Kal said from the dooray of the small room Ny occupied at Kyrimorut. In under an hour she had packed and the room looked bare and nondescript again. She was clipping up her flight suit with a serious expression.

"No, thanks Kal. It's just a small job for an old friend."

"Who?"

"Someone my husband used to know."

"Oh." Kal always shied away from the subject of Ny's late husband, but it raised warning flags.

A'den hadn't spoken much about the man, and Ny had said even less. But she'd come by her rough and ready attitude somewhere. Even though Kal burned with curiosity, he knew that no mater how long the man had been dead it would be a hard topic for Ny. She had spent three years searching for answers and prolonging her grief. When she found them it only made her loss an inescapable wound. Kal realized it was much of the reason she stayed at Kyrimorut at all. He understood. After Illipi left with his children he'd been the same. He took jobs because he needed comrades and feared being alone more than anything. He'd still been a mess fifteen years later when Jango recruited him.

"I'll be back in a few days, maybe a week at most," Ny said as she strapped her bag closed. "He just needs a lift across the Jutta Sector."

"Jutta? _Iba'jareor!_ You're crazy!" Kal didn't mean to snap, but his words came out harsher than he'd intended. "That's wild-space! Where are you picking this 'friend' up from?"

"It's not like I've never been to shady places before, Kal. I've been doing this a long time." Ny frowned at him and yanked the straps a little tighter than necessary. Kal could see she was in a foul mood, and he suspected he knew why. It only made him more determined to talk sense into her.

"Take one of my boys with you, at least. They'll be able to handle…"

"I don't need them to handle anything," Ny replied tersely. "It's a simple job."

"So take A'den! He'll be bored out of his mind, fine. But if it's not…"

'No, Kal."

"Why is it such a big deal?" _Why does your friend want you to come alone?_ he wanted to ask.

"Why do you get to make this decision for me. This is my job, my friend, and my problem. Butt out!" She pushed past him out into the hallway. Kal held back a growl.

 _You didn't make this decision!_ He wanted to say but he couldn't without giving away his eavesdropping.

"What kind of 'friend' is this anyway? How do you know you can trust him?"

"Kal, leave it alone! I'm just going…"

"Into lawless space, filled with pirates, mercenaries, and lowlifes of the worst kind. You think we're the worst of it? Even Death Watch looks civilized out there. I know those types of people better than you ever will!"

"You have no idea what I know, Kal." Ny shot back over her shoulder.

"If you know anything you'll take A'den and a few more armored boys with you."

"And put a big, _beskar_ sign on my hull that I'm someone worth robbing?" She spun on her heels to glare up at him.

"Or you're too _shabla_ scary to even think of robbing." Kal shot back.

"Only a mercenary would think that way! It's _karking_ stupid! And none of your _fracking_ business anyway."

" _Haa'shak,_ it is if you're going on some _jare'la_ jaunt into Jutta space without a single weapon on that flimsy crate of yours!"

"Are you grounding me now, _Kal'buir?_ " She asked with acidic mockery. Kal crossed his arms and gripped them hard as his anger flared hot just under his skin.

"No," he forced himself to sound calm and leaned against he wall of the hallway. He grinned at Ny, just to rub it in further. "You won't make it two lightyears from Mandalore before my boys catch up to you. Then it won't make a difference. You either take them or you don't go at all."

Ny's hands shook and her face reddened at an alarming rate. She sputtered but only came up with a string of creative curses in response. Kal had won, and he knew it.

"Call me whatever you like," he said. "I'd rather be the _krettle_ that saved your life than the man that let you die." And that was truth. As much as he wanted Ny to fit into his family, he'd rather she was alive to cuss at him.

"You're insufferable!"

"Then leave," he shrugged even as a pang of trepidation stabbed him, "but you'll be leaving with one of my boys."

"You're keeping me prisoner then?" she growled. "Adding kidnapping to that impressive rap-sheet of yours?"

"That's not a new one for me by a long shot," he responded evenly.

"Ugh!" She growled in mixed disgust and exasperation. She threw her hands up and turned away. Her shoulders slumped though and Kal knew she was ready to break.

"Fine," she said with a heavy sigh. She didn't turn around but dropped her bag on the hall floor. "I'll take A'den with me."

"Good," Kal said after a short pause, "He'll like that. He's been moping recently maybe you can figure out why."

"Sure," Ny muttered. "I'll go find him now." She stalked off without even a backward glance. Her heavy boots pounded against the stone floor.

Kal breathed a sigh of relief and smiled in victory. But it didn't last long. As the angry fire under his skin cooled, misgivings rose to take its place. The familiar feeling of eyes on his back made him turn. He found himself in front of the doorway to the _karyai_. Ruu was sitting on one of the long padded benches with a bowl of fruit she was de-seeding. She was frowning at Kal and he knew what she was thinking without needing to ask. It was easy as reading his own face sometimes. How could she not compare the argument she'd just overheard to his fights with Illipi? Kal felt a lump of dread form in his stomach.

Vau was the only other person in the Karyai and he wasn't watching even if he had heard everything. The old Mando was sitting by the roaring fire with Mird in his lap.

"You're gonna run her off too," Vau said frankly without turning to look. Kal felt his treacherous anger flare again. What right did Vau have to talk about his marriage? If Ruu had something to say, let her say it herself.

"You heard what she'd planning to-"

"Yeah, I did. Let the woman do what she wants. You don't own her."

"You'd sleep just fine with that on your conscience," Kal accused.

"Yes I would." Vau responded with pride. On the other side of the room Ruu was glancing between the two men worriedly. It had been a long time since the two came to blows in an argument but this one seemed headed in that direction.

Kal glanced at his daughter and held his tongue with effort. He swallowed a retort and took a few calming breaths.

"I'm sorry you had to see that," he said to Ruu and left before either could respond. Ruu just frowned and looked at Ny's bag sitting on the flagstones where it had fallen. She wondered if Ny would come back after this job. She frowned and dug a little too hard at the fruit in her hand. The sharp paring knife broke through and pricked her skin. She hissed in pain. She glared down at the small bubble of blood welling up on her sticky skin smeared with fruit juice.

She wasn't thinking about her parents as Kal thought she might be, but about her own lovers. She'd had a few since her foolish teenage years and none of them ended well. She could remember the men who had run at the first exchange of angry words and the pain of unresolved arguments that followed. After a few months at Kyrimorut, she was forced to accept that her aggressive streak was inherited from both sides of her family: emotional aggression from her mother and physical from her father. For her father's sake, she hoped that Ny was understanding enough to give Kal a second chance. She would hate to see him heartbroken. From the little she had heard of Kal's life after the divorce, he took it badly.

Part of her hoped Ny would come around, because it gave her hope she could mend things with Cov. The leader of Yayax squad had taken a shine to her soon after he arrived at the bastion. He wasn't like anyone she'd ever known before. Tough guys were a dime a dozen in her varied career choices. From the outside the clone soldiers were the same, all brawn and little thought. But something about the life they'd lived made them think harder about everything: their purpose in life, what they wanted, or how to productively spend every waking moment. Maybe it was because they couldn't take anything for granted. They had come from a life without choice and now every choice they had meant more.

Looking at them made Ruu reexamine her own life and the choices she'd made, failed to make, or let others make for her. Cov sometimes stared blankly at her when she tried to explain why choice was such an easy thing for her to give up. But the hardest part for him to grasp was her need for independence. That was what started their last argument, which was so similar to Kal and Ny's it was unsettling. Ruu hadn't spoken to Cov since.

"She'll come back," Vau said unexpectedly and Ruu looked up. She'd almost forgotten he was there.

"You think?"

"Ny's too smart of a woman to take Kal's bluster seriously."

"He sounded serious to me."

"Humf!" Vau made a dismissive noise and pushed Mird off his lap. The strill wined in complaint but jumped down and scuttled around Vau's feet as the man stood.

"I've known Kal a long time, and I know Ny's type," Vau said. "She'll be back." He ambled out of the room, completely at ease. Ruu frowned and wished she could believe him.

.

When Ruu had finished with the fruit and put it on the stove to cook down for Laseema to bake into sweet deserts that evening, she wandered the halls looking for the Null brothers. She heard the distinctive serious tenor of their voices and Mando accents. After three years she'd learned how to distinguish the different groups from each other. Mereel, Jaing and Prudii took pleasure in confusing her, swapping identities for a laugh. They'd never had anyone they could fool before. Their brothers could always tell them apart, Kal was almost as attuned to the small cues, and Jedi had a cheat; that was most of the beings they interacted with before leaving the army. It motivated her to learn the individual habits that gave them away.

Their voices were coming from the cracked door of Jaing's small workroom, the unofficial comm-center of the bastion. It was a strange place for a meeting of six broad-shouldered men. _They must be squished in tight,_ Ruu thought with amusement at the image.

"Mij isn't hopeful," one of them said in a hushed tone.

"It's going to destroy _Dar'ika_."

"It _is_ destroying Darman."

"What's the alternative? We don't have the facilities or the expertise to treat her."

"Then we should focus on finding a safe way to get her those things."

"If she even can be treated. Bardan tried and we all know how that ended. What could someone else do that a Jedi couldn't?"

Ruu hesitated at the door. It was impossible not to know what they were talking about. _Etain,_ she thought with a pang of pity.

 _No wonder they're all sequestered away in there._ Etain was unofficially a taboo subject at Kyrimorut. The woman herself spent most of her time sleeping now a days, but she was never far from anyone's mind.

"The alternative is letting her…"

" _K'uur!_ " Someone she thought was probably Ordo hissed. They'd obviously realized she was there. The door swung open a second later and Ordo looked at her pointedly.

"Hey," Ruu said, forcing a casual tone. "A'den in there?"

Ordo stood back and she slipped in between him and Mereel. The room was crowded. They had cleared one of the long tables on one wall so three of them could sit on it. The wood strained under the weight of three men in _beskar'gam_.

 _"_ _Me'bana, vod'ika?"_ A'den asked, with an easy smile as if they had been discussing nothing more serious than Kad's latest childish antics.

Ruu shrugged. "Have you talked to Dad about…"

"No," Ordo cut her off.

"He's stressed as it is," Kom'rk said. "We'll talk to him when we have a plan."

Runn nodded. That was just about what everyone had been saying since Etain arrived; _wait and hope we think of a solution_.

"Better to let him focus on keeping Ny happy," Mereel said with his insinuating grin.

"What part of 'late husband' does not get through your skull, _vod?_ " Jaing asked wearily.

"They aren't really getting along right now anyway," Ruu said and heard more of her own disappointment in her voice than she'd intended.

"What do you mean?"

"They had a fight this morning about the job she's taking."

"Job?" A'den asked.

"Yeah, an old friend called her this morning," Ruu said. It wasn't often the Nulls missed something. _They must really be distracted by Etain_ , Ruu realized. Etain's condition had been deteriorating recently. Mij had taken to sleeping across the hall so he could be closer if she needed him.

"Kal doesn't mind her doing jobs outside of Kyrimorut."

"He wanted her to take one of you, since the job is in the Jutta Sector." They all stiffened but A'den stood up straighter and even stepped forward.

"She did look upset after breakfast," Prudii said, like he'd just realized it. Maybe he had. The Nulls had eidetic memories. They could replay any moment of their lives and see it afresh.

"Her boots were gone when we came in," Mereel noted.

"I didn't see Cornicopia." Kom'rk said softly.

" _Buir_ isn't going to like this." Ordo said angrily.

"Who did she say she was doing the job for?" A'den demanded of Ruu with almost scary intensity.

"A friend of her husbands, I think," Ruu said, feeling more uncomfortable by the second.

" _Shab!"_ A'den cursed. _"_ She said she was done with that _osik."_ He pushed past Ruu out of the room. The other five exchanged glances, communicating silently in their private language of expressions. They filed out after their brother. Ruu trailed behind them until she came to the door of the _karyai._ She paused to stare down at the floor where Ny's bag had been. It was gone.

 _They're right,_ Ruu thought, _Dad isn't going to like this._

.

Author's Note: I managed not to kill anyone this chapter! So that was the first chapter of part II. We're going to be having three-ish story lines for a while. Kind of like last time. Rex and Fox will be embarking into the exciting world of espionage. Kyrimorut is embroiled in drama as is inevitable with so many people all in one place. And Ahsoka crosses paths with an old friend from the War. Did you figure out who? More to come next week. Hope you enjoyed it. –Em.

P.S. Leave a review if you're so inclined. :)


	11. Chapter 11

Author's Note: So I kind of churned parts of this chapter out so I could publish it today because I didn't want to skip another week. There may not be a chapter next week... I don't know yet. Anyway. Not my best chapter so far but I'm working up to some fun stuff. I hope you like it anyway.

(On another note. I made a spreadsheet of all the characters that appear in this story (some of whom you haven't heard about yet.) There are more than a 100. I'm going to make you a nice helpful appendix chapter to use as a reference some time… yeah. Anyway. There's a new character in this chapter! She started out as just a name and now she's got her own side-plot, that is after all how this whole story came about.)

ALSO! I saw Episode VII. It was awesome! Worst thing about that movie was the lack of Mandalorians IMHO. (*tears*) If you haven't seen it, I won't spoil it and my story certainly won't spoil anything for _quite_ a while. Anyway. Enjoy the new chapter. –Em.

 **.**

 **Chapter 11: Introductions**

 **.**

Rex fought against the urge to pace while he waited. It would only aggravate his back injury more. The painful twinges and near constant ache had returned now that his supply of anisthetics was forcibly and suddenly cut off.

 _Damn Fox and his_ karking _plan,_ Rex thought again. It definitely hadn't been his idea to get caught with his stolen medication and demoted again. He was a common Trooper once more. It didn't feel as bad as he thought it might. His back just hurt worse and there was nothing he could do about it.

It did land him back in Imperial City though. Fox had called in a favor with his C.O. to get Rex reassigned to the right place. Apparently Fox hadn't wasted the three years he spent on the periphery of the political world. He'd learned the value of knowledge and the delicate application of leverage. He could still learn a few things from Jaina Emala though.

The Shili Senator was what brought Rex to the uncomfortable place he was standing in the little down time he still had. Now that he was actually there he was regretting it. But he didn't leave.

It had been surprisingly easy to insert himself into the Senate Guard with a little knowledge of the system. There were so many more troops around the Senate Building since they stopped allowing personal guards past the entrance hall. It meant only the Senators and aids were allowed in the building. Senators were escorted everywhere by Stormtroopers. The ever-changing schedule and needs of the thousands of beings in the Senate made it a logistical nightmare full of weak points. With so many troopers around they became almost invisible. Rex easily bluffed his way into taking over as Jaina's morning escort to her podium.

With each passing second he felt more and more uneasy about seeing his former employer again. He hadn't seen her since he was in Shili-Kai, since the end of the war. He hardly remembered who he'd been before that day. Something he'd said to Fox got him thinking about that. Like Coric, Order 66 had changed him. He no longer trusted his own memories. If he understood Fives correctly, he couldn't trust the memories of his brothers either. That left him with a short list of people who could tell him what really happened and who he really was.

 _What do you hope she's going to tell you?_ Part of him wondered. _She can't tell you anything you don't already know. You know what_ happened. _She can't tell you why you feel torn up about it if you don't even know._

Still Rex stayed where he was, standing at attention on the speeder platform. His stomach flip-flopped when the sleek speeder with the Emala Clan Crest decal broke out of the regular traffic and descended toward him. It landed softly.

Jaina stepped out, looking thin and tired. Despite it, she held her head and graceful montrals high. She hadn't lost the regal dignity and grace that set her apart. Rex was comforted when he recognized a number of the togruta in her guard. They were men he'd trained and worked with—people he could trust with her safety.

"Senator," he said, stepping forward and saluting her. Her guards glared at him with casual resentment as Jaina crossed the virtual no-mans-land of the speeder platform. Rex felt their eyes on his back until the doors of the Senate building closed behind him. For a minute he just walked down the empty halls under the grand arched ceiling.

 _"_ _Ko'toya mayah, uula Jaina che'Mala,"_ he greeted her in formal togruti. Her surprise was audible.

"Captain Rex?" She breathed the question, her footsteps faltering.

"You look tired, my lady," he said, keeping the volume of his helmet's external speakers down.

"I—I assumed… when the army terminated your lease…" she stuttered, the most ineloquent he had ever heard her.

"I survived, somehow."

"You are stationed here in the Senate Building?"

"No, but I needed to talk to you without drawing attention."

"You must be careful what you say; this place is monitored," she warned him darkly, her distain for the change in policy clear in her voice. He frowned. Such behavior bordered on treason coming from a Senator.

"I know," Rex said and turned his hand backward, opening it so she could see the portable comm-scrambler nestled in his palm. "So long as we're moving this will disrupt any bugs long enough to mask our voices."

"If you are caught with that, Captain…"

"It's a risk I'm willing to take," Rex cut her off and he saw her lips purse in annoyance in his 360 HUD. "I'm sorry, my Lady. I don't have a lot of time."

"I am more than willing to help you leave the Empire's service again," She said in a hushed whisper, sounding almost hopeful that he would accept.

"I…" for a moment he was speechless with a lump in his throat. It was a lot of risk for her to take on even offering to do that for him. A stab of guilt dispelled the warm feeling filling his chest. _I betrayed her friend,_ he remembered. _She doesn't know I shot Ahsoka._

"I couldn't ask that of you. I don't… You don't know what happened that night."

"You mean the last day of the war, when we visited Shili-Kai together? No. Only that you were with Captain Tano—with Ahsoka when she went missing? Have you heard from her? Do you know where she is?" Jaina's calm façade cracked a little when she asked after her young friend. It was one of the few times Rex remembered how young the Senator really was. She wasn't much older than Ahsoka would have been. They had the same petite form and large eyes, but Jaina's were amber-red not blue. Rex could never imagine lifting a blaster against Jaina but thinking of Ahsoka his hand strayed closer to his belt holster.

"Ahsoka Tano was a wanted fugitive and traitor. She was killed almost a year ago during a rescue attempt on another Jedi captive." Rex told Jaina.

"How can that be? Ahsoka wasn't a Jedi anymore—they abandoned her! You know that! She was innocent of their treason—of all of it!"

"I just obey orders, my lady," he answered robotically, "I don't question them."

"There was a time when you did, Captain. What has changed?" She asked, and when he didn't respond, she went on. "The man that I knew would not have been able to say something like that without some kind of emotion. He had a sense of justice that was not force-fed by any politician or leader. What changed that man into someone who accepts such violations of law and due process?"

"I don't know. I don't recognize that person you remember, Jaina," he responded, unable to keep the waver of fear out of his voice.

"Captain… Rex… Have you forgotten the day you joined my guard?" She asked.

He did remember, but the memory was thin and nebulous like a dream. Events in that hazy memory didn't follow clear cause and effect laws. It was like watching a hollo-vid. He didn't know what the characters were thinking. He could only hear their voices and see their actions.

"You told me that Ahsoka was different from the other Officers, because she cared about the men as men, not just beings or objects. She knew them as people and she knew you as a friend. Did you lie when you told me how you felt for her? You said…"

"I remember," he cut her off again; he was afraid to hear aloud what else she might say.

"Was it all a lie?" Jaina asked, her voice shaking with anger and the pain of betrayal. They were walking up to her doorway and the end of their conversation. Rex turned to look into Jaina's wide, glistening eyes. Her expression, caught between wrenching pain, confusion, and blinding anger was identical to Ahsoka's the last time he had seen her.

This time he felt his chest constrict and his throat tighten with mirrored pain. Wasn't that how he should have felt when Ahsoka looked at him that way. But he hadn't. He didn't remember feeing anything but the sharp pain of her heel connecting with the side of his head and then blackness.

"I don't know," Rex answered the Senator honestly. _"Ko'wahn kai, che'han." Thank you for the meeting (Goodbye), my lady._ He didn't wait for her to respond or for the tears to break free of her eyes. He turned and walked away, his chest still tight and his heart heavy.

 _Thank you,_ he thought to her silently as he made his way to the back exits the staff used. _Thank you, for remembering._ It hadn't all been a dream and his memories _were_ different—something had changed on Shili. He should have felt something. He knew that for sure now. Somehow knowing that he was crazy was comforting. He no longer had to question if his thinking was rational because he knew now that it wasn't. If it happened to him then it could have happened to Coric. If that was related to what Fives had tried to tell him and the inexplicable change in Etain, Rex needed to know. Somehow ORSA was at the center of it all, and Jaina's confirmation of his fears just made Rex more determined to find out what it was. It was about more than protecting Kyrimorut now; it was about finding the truth and finding himself.

.

The rain fell in thin curtains on the muddy, Mandalorian town of Pariya but didn't seem to have any dampening effect on the boisterous business. The town was built on a flat shelf of rock protruding from an old rounded mountain of softer stone. The sheer drop on one side of the town provided a perfect wharf for freighters of all sorts. The street running parallel to the vertical drop was loud with conversations shouted over the ever-present thrum of engines and repulsor drives. Everywhere armored people of indeterminate race and species worked and haggled. Three men armored in red, amber, and deep purple respectively didn't turn any heads, even with the impressive weapons they carried.

"You have to give it to Ny," Mereel said, his tone light and joking over the helmet comms, "she has guts. It takes a lot to stand up to _Kal'buir_ when he makes up his mind."

"She still shouldn't have left." A'den walked slightly ahead of his brothers, pushing the pace. _She shouldn't have left alone. She knows I would help her, whatever it was. Why didn't she ask?_ Those same thoughts had been running through his head since he heard she was gone. Ny hadn't talked much about the kind of business her husband did before they were married, but she didn't need to. Ny knew how to fly under the radar, what questions to ask, and when to back off to avoid suspicion. Those honed instincts didn't come from lawful work as a simple freighter pilot.

"More likely than not, bringing her back won't solve anything," Prudii said.

"You could have stayed home," Mereel told him.

"A'den needs backup in case you get distracted."

"Distracted by what?" Mereel asked with mock hurt.

"There it is," A'den cut off their banter. He was looking across the wharf at a small freighter painted with green livery sitting half way into a hanger barely big enough for it. Mereel and Prudii pinged the transponder themselves to confirm it was the vessel they were looking for.

"I'll take up the ground position," Mereel said, one hand on the barrel of the compact rotary blaster on his back.

"I'll find a higher vantage, wait for my confirmation to approach," Prudii said, already ambling casually toward a back alley. Mereel clapped a hand on A'den's shoulders before sauntering toward a food cart selling spicy, fried fish in greasy, flimsy packages.

A'den leaned casually against a low wall separating the main pedestrian track from a private lot. A few minutes later Prudii gave him the all-clear sign and he moved in.

What little space in the hanger that wasn't filled by the ship was crowded with boxes and repulsor palettes. A rickety rusted staircase climbed the back wall to what A'den assumed were offices or living quarters. There were two back exists on either side of the far wall he noted and relayed the information to Prudii and Mereel.

As he rounded the ship he found the pilot bent over a repulsor palette. The palette was laden with heavy canisters and sitting solidly on the ground. There were tools spread out on the floor and half of the circuitry removed around the broken device.

"I'm looking for _Gra'tua_ ," A'den said, pausing just inside the hanger. The pilot looked up quickly at his question. She was a humanoid, probably a near human, and everything from her eyes to her skin to her scarred and battered _beskar'gam_ was green. The overall effect was strangely disconcerting – like a monochrome holo image.

"Above your head," She said and jerked her chin at the ships stabilizer that was sheltering him from the rain. " _Gra'tua_ is the ship. What can she do for you?"

"I'm looking for transport."

"She's not for sale," the woman replied and looked back at her broken repulsor palette with a grimace of frustration.

"I was told you could move around Empire space discretely."

"Who told you that?"

"Wad'e Tay'haai."

She looked up and her gaze lingered on his helmet visor.

"I can," she said as she went back to her work. "It's not cheep."

"Money won't be an issue. My problem is time, or I would organize it myself."

"I'm finishing up a job now. When and what are you transporting?"

"Myself and another passenger."

"Not that cheating _chakaar."_

"Tay'haai said you'd say that. It's just my father, Kal and I."

"I require half my fee upfront."

"I'll give you ten thousand when we leave and my brother will have another twenty when you return us." She fumbled her hydropsanner at the figure and it clattered on the floor. "But if we don't make it back, you shouldn't bother returning."

"I make an honest living, thanks all the same. I'll take the thirty thousand over a blood feud."

"Good to hear. When can you be ready?"

"I get back tomorrow. She stood up and whipped her hands with a greasy rag tucked into her belt. A'den noted a tarnished silver starburst on her abdomen plate where it had blocked a projectile of some kind. It must have been high velocity to leave a dent like that in _beskar_. He wondered why she hadn't gotten it fixed or replaced. "Throw in an extra grand and I can be back before dawn."

"Could three get you back by midnight?" He asked.

"Done." She gave him a not-quite-friendly smile and held out her hand. He stepped up to grasp her forearm in a mandalorian handshake. Her return grip left grease smudges on his orange-gold gauntlets. "Where am I taking you?"

"Kuat first. After that, it depends."

"I'll clean out my conservator before I leave," she said but A'den got the feeling she wasn't the kind of woman to keep a stocked kitchen anyway. Her line of work didn't accommodate it.

"I'll be back at midnight with my father and your money."

"I'll be here," she said and turned away to glare at the broken machine. "If I can ever get these damn crates loaded," she muttered under her breath and kicked the broken lift with enough force to dent the metal case with her boot. A'den was half turned to leave when he heard her and paused.

"Can I give you a hand?" He asked, looking over the four canisters loaded on the platform.

"What's it going to cost me?" She responded with ambiguously genuine suspicion.

"Free of charge, promise," A'den took off his helmet, clipping it to his belt, and flashed her his best imitation of Mereel's disarming smile.

"You can fix a repulsor lift?" She asked skeptically and crossed her arms.

"Sure," he bent down by the lift, "but this is faster." He lifted two of the barrels easily on his shoulders and marched them up her loading ramp.

"Show off," he heard her mutter.

He laughed genuinely. "No, showing off would be fixing the palette, _then_ carrying the cans anyway. I'm just being friendly." He lined them up with the others in her well-stocked cargo bay. She'd followed him up and leaned against the hydraulics of the ramp.

"I'm A'den by the way," he said, consciously trying to be more casual now that the serious business was done.

"Thanks for your help," she said and took a slightly deeper breath, nearly a sigh before she introduced herself. "I'm Vorpa."

 _Vorpan_ was mando'a for green.

"Nice to meet you." He said and started down the ramp for the second set of canisters.

"Wait, what?" She said in shock.

"What?" A'den turned around to her incredulous face.

"No joke? Come on, everyone has one," she said, her dark green eyebrows furrowed.

A'den frowned. He was accustomed to people who were named for their physical characteristics. "I have a brother named Scorch because he burned his eyebrows off once."

She stared at his dead serious face for a silent beat then burst into laughter. A'den watched befuddled, but he noted that her face was actually pretty when she smiled—less thin and stretched.

"I'd like to meet this brother of yours," she said when she caught her breath. "Is your name literal too?" He couldn't help but notice how her eyes flickered to Kal's Verpine rifle on his back; _A'den_ in mando'a meant wrath.

"Not usually."

"That's good to hear. I've had one experience with a rifle like that. I don't need another," Vorpa motioned to the scar on her abdomen plate.

"Sounds like there's a story there," A'den tried to hold in his curiosity. He picked up the last of the canisters and started up the ramp.

"Yeah," Vorpa said casually, "someone tried to kill me."

"I've got lots of those stories," he said when he put down his load, grinning genuinely this time.

"I see they all have happy endings."

"Not for the other guys," A'den promised her.

"I'm sure. I'll remember to stay on your good side."

He frowned, suddenly serious again. "If my business remains between the two of us I don't think you should have a problem with that."

"Wad'e said I was discrete didn't he," she responded with a note of indignation.

"Then I doubt my rifle will see much action," A'den said adjusting the strap for emphasis. "I'll be back at midnight."

"Thanks for the help," she said with a nod. He waited for an awkward second, expecting her to smile again but she just looked at him. He opened his mouth to say something a second before he realized he had nothing to say. Quickly he shut it and turned away. He hurried to put his helmet back on before stepping out into the steady rain. In the 360 view of his HUD, he saw her watching him leave, her arms crossed and her face twisted in a curiously pained expression. He wondered what she was thinking and what she thought of him, while at the same time he hoped she kept her word. He would be disappointed if he had to kill her.

"Green, _ner vod?"_ Prudii asked over the com link.

"What's wrong with green?" Mereel answered a little too fast, "I knew this green twilek who could do this thing with her lekku that…"

" _K'uur,_ stop _._ Save your fantasies for Atin, would you? At least he has a chance of actually getting the real thing."

" _Vod'ika!_ I'm hurt. You think I would lie to you?" Mereel asked Prudii as he jogged up beside A'den with a greasy packet under one arm.

"Yes," A'den answered evenly for his brother. "That doesn't look like enough for all of us." He pointed at the package.

"I didn't know you wanted anything," Mereel replied with a grin in his voice.

"We outnumber you," Prudii said with mocking menace, coming up behind his brother and grabbing his shoulders suddenly. Mereel laughed and handed over the packet.

"Here. I already ate. It's all yours," he conceded.

 _Ny would be telling them off for ruining the dinner Laseema's preparing,_ A'den though. He wanted to join in with his brothers' jovial mood but he kept thinking of Ny's absence and new dangers she might be walking into at that second. _I thought she was really happy here._ _Did I judge her wrong? Or is there some other reason she didn't take me with her?_ A'den frowned behind his helmet and walked on into the muddy town. Thinking those questions wasn't getting him anywhere. He'd have to ask Ny himself when he found her.

.

"Hey! Clone! Over-here." Sergeant Toner called aloud. Rex sighed in the privacy of his bucket. Mongrel troopers—non-clones—didn't like to use helmet comms if they didn't have to. The system was unfamiliar to them. For men like Rex, it was second nature. He had been wearing a helmet since he was two years old. He'd probably spent more of his waking life in his bucket than out by now. At least as a Lieutenant running supplies around the _shebs_ end of the galaxy he could correct them on the regs. Now he was a trooper, the lowest rank in the army, so he dealt with the incompetence of his C.O.s with muttered abuses and irritation in the privacy of his bucket. Rex stopped the repulsor cart he was driving and did as he was told.

 _Please let this be something trivial,_ he prayed to nothing in particular. (He had long ago given up thinking there was a god listening to him.) _We're almost done. Just let me go back to sleep._

Toner and another mongrel trooper were standing beside a stalled cart. The diagnostic panel was open and flashing warnings across the small display. Rex felt all his hopes crumble into dust. Sleep was a long way off.

"The cart broke down. Fix it."

"Right away."

"That's 'right away, _sir_ '" Toner corrected him. Rex clenched his jaw. Sergeants were NCOs. He wasn't obligated to call the _etyc'tal aruetii_ anything.

"Right away, sir," he said through gritted teeth. Any brother would have heard the contempt in his voice, but the two mongrels didn't seem to. Rex bent down, ignoring the pain in his back, to look at the diagnostics.

"You over-loaded the inertial-inverters," Rex said, motioning to the large boxes stacked on the cart's bed.

"No, I didn't. The cart just broke," the mongrel trooper said defensively. "Just fix the _karking_ thing so it doesn't break again, vat-boy."

They walked off, leaving Rex with the broken machine. He glared after them.

It took him a few hours to unload the broken cart and dismantle it enough to reach the broken pieces. Sure enough, the inertial-inverters were blackened and burned out. While he'd been working the rest of the squad had finished loading the transport speeder waiting to deliver it's cargo to the new destination where tomorrow they would unload it again. Rex was alone in the loading bay of the vacated office building.

He was searching the speeder for spare parts when he heard the opening doors and solid marching of boots coming into the loading bay. Rex turned his good ear toward the back of the speeder and picked up the higher pitched two tone clacking of high-healed shoes. There was a woman with the soldiers.

"Why aren't those boxes loaded?" A woman's voice asked. Rex sat up a little straighter at the sound. It struck a cord in his memory, but he couldn't place it.

"Looks like one of the carts broke down." A mongrel trooper answered her. "We need to keep moving, Dr. Orsa."

Rex could hardly believe his ears. He looked quickly to the rear-view mirror of the speeder. He was hidden from view behind the large boxes loaded inside, but he could see a small portion of the room in the reflection. White armored bodies marched in formation across the platform with a woman in the middle. Beside her white coat her skin looked very dark. She glanced back at the broken speeder, and, for a moment, Rex saw her face full on. Her eyes were two blue points that flashed at him.

 _The wrong blue,_ Rex thought, _they're the wrong blue._ A wave of déjà vu hit him suddenly.

"See that those crates are loaded," the woman said in her infuriatingly familiar voice. "Nothing can be left behind."

"Of course," the stormtrooper replied. They disappeared from the mirror, and their footsteps faded off toward the parked speeders on the far wall. Rex heard an engine whirr to life, and a minute later it speed off. The sound dwindled, leaving Rex alone again.

 _Dr. Orsa…Orsa… OhAreEsAye,_ Rex sat in the speeder for a long moment just turning the word over in his mind. _Could it be a coincidence?_ He asked himself. _Yes._ But his gut feeling was telling him differently. Those gut feelings had saved his life far too many times to be disregarded. Rex looked at the sealed boxes all around him, clamped tightly shut with biometric locks. They didn't look any different from the other equipment and supplies that he had been moving for weeks all across the district.

 _Fox said that the drop off location changes,_ Rex remembered. _That's why he got me this position! I'm moving the facility that he's delivering to._ He looked around at the boxes that nearly buried him. _This is ORSA._ The answers to his questions could be just under his fingertips, separated from him by only a sheet of durasteel.

Then there was the woman. He could see her features clearly in his mind, even though he'd only caught her face for a second. Her voice and those blue eyes haunted Rex as he finished his work. He was in a half daze for the rest of the evening, scouring his memory. He barely thought about the ache in his back and, for once, that wasn't what kept him up into the early hours of morning. When he finally succumbed to sleep, the mysterious Dr. Orsa was the last thing he thought about.

.

The drives of Bardan's Aggressor hummed softly through the frame of the ship. It was a sleek and quiet craft, suited for bounty hunting and little else. Though Mij had to admit, it was satisfying to pilot. But He hadn't asked Bardan to let him take the ship just so he could get behind the controls. With Etain's condition, Bardan was happy to let Mij take over as pilot. He didn't like to be too far away in case he was needed. Mij didn't want to leave his sole patient either, but at a certain point he had to face the fact: there wasn't much he could do for her.

He hoped that wasn't the case with his friend. Mij looked sidelong at his passenger.

"You sure this is a good idea, Kal?" he asked gently, trying to ease into the subject.

"Oh, I knew when you offered to pilot I'd be getting this lecture," Kal snarled.

"No lecture," Mij insisted, "I just want to be sure you know what you're doing."

"Well I don't," Kal snapped, "and I can't say I'm sure it's the right thing to do either" He flicked his three sided knife out of it's sheath and back nervously. "I just can't do nothing!" He finished emphatically.

"So if you do find Ny," Mij proposed, "what is it you're hoping this will accomplish? You can't count on finding her in some perilous predicament waiting for one of your heroic rescues."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You do have a habit of—"

"I pulled Vau out of a pinch once and that's a habit? Until that day, I despised the man."

"And Ny?" Mij knew for certain Kal far from despised her. She made him twice as irrational as he usually was according to Vau, and it wasn't often that Mij agreed with Walon Vau.

" _Haar'chak_ , Mij!" Kal cussed. "I don't know, but I can't just sit around waiting for bad news. Can you honestly say in my place you wouldn't be out there scouring the galaxy for Uthan?"

"Qail's smarter than that," Mij deflected, "so I wouldn't be in your place."

"Right, you know better than to get involved with someone so foolhardy and _karking_ stubborn."

"Well, I'm friends with you now aren't I?" He meant it only as a half joke.

"That's different, and you know what I mean!"

"No, I don't, unless your relationship with Ny has escaped that well-oiled rumor mill you keep up at Kyrimorut. What is your relationship with this woman you're dropping everything to chase through lawless space anyway?"

"I don't know, Mij," Kal groaned and added ruefully, "I was never good at this, if you hadn't noticed. I'm just not cut out for it."

"For what? Romance or commitment?"

"I know I'm no good at the second part. Just look at what happened with Ilippi."

"That was the old Kal. Anyone can see you've changed since then."

"Not that much! I'm still running off the women I care about."

"But you'll admit it," Mij pointed out. "That's a lot more than you did with Ilippi after the divorce."

"Yes, ok—rub salt in that wound too while you're at it, sadistic _chakaar!_ I ran Ilippi off too. I'm man enough to admit it."

"And that's what makes you different from the old Kal," Mij replied evenly while Kal fumed on his side of the cockpit.

"That's not enough, Mij. It's just the way I am. Look at my daughter. It runs in our blood." Kal wondered for a moment if his biological father had been the same. _What kind of relationship did he have with my mother? Were they happy?_ With a sharp throb of pain, Kal realized he would never know. All record of them was gone and his vague memories were clouded with a child's perception. If those parents had any answers for him, they were lost a long time ago.

"You can't blame yourself for what's happening between her and Cov. They've got bigger issues."

"Like what?" Kal's head shot up and he glared at Mij.

"Your daughter is very independent," Mij said with a shrug. "She's used to looking out for herself, all on her own. Cov's a Commando, part of a squad, a true pod. That boy has never truly been alone in his life. His brothers kept him alive through the war. He'll be hard pressed to put anyone over them."

"You think her relationship's doomed to fail then?"

"I couldn't say. But just because you take those boys away from the war, doesn't mean you can take the war out of them."

"What does that make us?" Kal asked with a heavy sigh.

"Acclimatized," Mij answered deadpan. "I'm just saying you can't forget that they will always see the world through a soldier's eyes. Ruu may be _mandokar'la_ but she's never been a soldier."

That was true, even Kal had to admit it. Ruu had never gotten involved deep enough in the war before she was imprisoned. She hadn't seen it the way the clones had. It was hard for a civilian to understand what living like that did to a person, how it shifted their viewpoint around. _Parja may not have fought the war but she's lived with soldiers all her life,_ Kal thought. _Besany at least knows she doesn't understand, so she accepts Ordo for what he is. Laseema's no stranger to living under constant physical and mental abuse_. _Soldier or not, she probably understands Atin better than I do. Ny knew loss and grief but that wasn't the same…_

"Are you saying Cov would be better off with a real Mando girl?" Kal asked, fixing his old friend with a hard glare. "Or that I would?"

"Those are two different things."

"No, you're right. I tried marrying an _aruetii_ once. It didn't end well. Why should I think Ny would be any different?" Kal said, half-heartedly. He wanted Ny to be different.

"Ny isn't Ilippi. Marrying an outsider works out sometimes, I should know," Mij said pointedly and gave Kal a sidelong look. Kal nearly groaned at his own blunder.

"Sorry Mij'ika, sometimes I forget you weren't raised this way."

"I never do, Kal," Mij said gravely. Even after thirty years he still had moments where he felt like an outsider. He remembered first coming to Mandalore as an _aruetii_ and the hard years that followed. Bardan was living the same thing even with all of his brothers to support him. Ruu, Jilka, and Ny were still at the beginning of that process, clinging to anything familiar in the strange new world they found themselves in. Ruu might have chosen to come with her father and Ny might have chosen to get involved, but that didn't mean they chose to adopt a whole new culture. Jilka certainly didn't choose to be framed for Besany's crime, kidnapped out of Republic Custody by Mandalorians, and spirited to the Outer Rim.

"We become Mandalorian for many reasons. I consciously chose to embrace this life," Mij reminded Kal.

"You had a damned good reason," Kal said, nodding in agreement.

"It's not that different from the reason that brought Ny to you," Mij pointed out. He may have married into Mandalorian culture but it wasn't until his wife died he really became Mandalorian. He sought out a Mandalorian Commando who could teach him how to get his revenge. "When I found Old Rex I was grieving and searching for answers just like Ny when she found A'den. There were more than a few times in those years I truly hated that _ori'jagyc_ , and I tried to run away more than once. But I chose to come back. Ilippi didn't. Ny just might, all on her own."

"Assuming she's alive to make that choice," Kal grumbled darkly. He peered out the window at the dark countryside flashing by as the trees thinned out and the ground sloped up toward the town of Pariya.

"So you're just going to make sure she's alive?" Mij asked. "A'den could do that all on his own." He didn't really need to look over to see Kal's unease. They both knew the old widower was far too attached to Ny already than he should be.

"And if she doesn't want to come back, Kal?" Mij pressed further. "Could you just walk away?"

The lights of the port lit up the underbelly of the ship as they flew over Pariya. The mist covered valley beyond the vertical cliff bordering the town stretched out in front of them. A small blocky shape shilouetted by the glow of it's own engines was making it's way toward them.

"I guess we'll see," Kal replied, half to himself. He pulled on his helmet as Mij set the Aggressor down on the wharf. The landing gear hissed, and the boarding ramp groaned and rumbled as it lowered.

"You're just in time Kal'buir," Mereel called up into the hull as soon as the engines cut.

" _Koyacyi_ , Kal," Mij said, leaning back in the pilot's chair.

" _Ke'tayli bral_ ," _hold down the fort,_ Kal said, getting up out and shouldering his verpine rifle. "And…" He turned back at the edge of the ramp.

"I'll call you if anything happens," Mij replied, leaving just what might happen implied.

" _Vor entye, vod_ ," Kal replied. _Thank you, brother._

Mereel and Prudii boarded the Aggressor as he was disembarking.

"Happy hunting," Mereel said as he passed, and clapped his father on the back with a wide grin. Kal tried and failed to return the smile. He only managed a grimace. Mij's words were still rolling around in his head. He stopped short when Prudii's hard grip closed around his arm. He looked up at his much taller son.

"Be careful, _buir,_ " Prudii said softly, staring intently at his father. Kal resisted the urge to swallow while the back of his neck prickled with unease. He hated making his sons worry.

"I will, _ad'ika_ , I will. A'den will look after me," Kal patted Prudii's hand on his arm and the boy let go.

"You might need to look after him," Mereel cut in jovially from the top of the ramp. Kal saw A'den's helmet turn toward his brother, and he could imagine the glare it was hiding. " _Cuun vod'ika_ is smitten with _Vorpa,_ the pilot."

Kal resisted a groan. He didn't know how much more drama he could take. It was somehow more nerve racking and exhausting than combat because it never ended. A battle happened, and then it was done. Relationships were constantly evolving and never truly over.

"I'll do my best, Mer'ika," Kal assured his son as best he could. He stepped down off the ramp to join A'den watching the blocky ship gliding in to land beside them. It's green livery was dark and dull against the gray metal of the hull, but Kal could pick out the name: _Gra'tua,_ vengeance. A'den started forward as soon as the ramp began to lower and the hatch opened. A woman appeared to block the doorway decked out in green armor almost the same color as her ship. When she took her helmet off Kal saw where she got her name.

"My fee?" She said before A'den's feet even touched the ramp.

"Thirteen thousand," he said, nodding and pulling the cred chips from a pocket on his belt, "like we agreed." She accepted the creds and stepped out of the way to let them board.

"This is my father," A'den added, motioning behind him. Vorpa swept an appraising gaze over her new passenger and Kal did the same. The pilot was tall and thin even with her armor, hardly pretty, and rugged looking. Kal had to admire the starburst scar on her lower chest plate. It proved she was made of stern stuff even if she wasn't much to look at. Then again, Kal never though Ordo married Besany for her good looks so it probably didn't really mater to A'den what she looked like.

"Why do they call you Vorpa?" He asked her as he climbed into the _Gra'tua._ Vorpa grimaced and glared simultaneously.

"Why do they call you Kal?" She snapped back.

Kal smiled. With a well practiced flick of his wrist he dropped the distinctive three sided blade that gave him his name into his palm. "I prefer to do my dirty work up close and personal," he answered and twirled the knife in his hand. Vorpa either thought nothing of the subtle threat or she missed it, because she just rolled her eyes and followed him into the ship stiffly.

"I told you everybody has one," she muttered to A'den as she passed him in the cockpit. She went through the preflight startup quickly, flipping switches with a little more force than necessary.

"You shouldn't have mentioned her name," A'den told his father as Kal settled in the chair beside him. Kal just shrugged and met the glare Vorpa flashed over her shoulder at him without flinching. He changed the subject quickly.

"Are you still alright with me coming along?" He asked. "I may well make the situation worse."

A'den shook his head and said, "I think she would come back for you sooner than me."

"History begs to differ," Kal sighed. _Maybe Mij was right,_ he thought. _I don't really know why I'm here. A'den can do this on his own. He's a grown boy._

"You want her to come back," A'den said firmly. It wasn't a question. Kal fingered the tip of his knife, back in it's wrist holster.

"Yes, I do, son," he admitted.

"Then we'll get her back." A'den turned to look out the view screen at the quickly shrinking mountains and the horizon dropping away below them.

 _It sounds so simple when you say it that way,_ Kal thought. _But you an I both know it's nothing even close to simple._ Kal caught Vorpa giving the two men a suspicious look over her shoulder. She turned away quickly and flicked on the hyperdrive.

"Next stop, Kuat," she said and pushed the lever forward. The field of stars streaked into the bright flowing lights of hyperspace and the ship jumped to lightspeed.

.

Rex was trapped. The binders held down his wrists, his bicepts, his thighs, his ankles, his shoulders, and his forehead. The metal against his back was so cold it felt like fire where it touched the sensitive skin around his burn-scars. He strained against the bonds, feeling them biting into his skin. The longer he struggled, the worse his shaking became. His heart was pounding in his good ear and his bad one rang louder and louder with each passing moment of fruitless struggle. He started panting with exertion as he fought to free himself.

Cold fingers clamped down hard enough to leave bruises on his arm and the point of a large needle pricked his inner elbow lightly, hesitating to break his skin.

"Please," Rex panted, "just shoot me." He looked up into a round, ashy face with two vivid blue eyes drowning in guilt.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I promise, it will only take a minute." The sharp prick in his elbow was like an electric shock. He felt like his heart would pound right out of his chest.

 _No! Not like this!_

Rex opened his eyes and gasped. He quickly threw off his blanket and sat up, rubbing his right wrist with his left hand to dispel the ghostly feeling of the binders biting into his skin.

The memory was hazy and disjointed but it was there in the front of his mind. It was more than just a very vivid dread. It had been real. He strained to hold onto it.

 _That's how I know her. That's who she is!_ He thought frantically and as quietly as he could he dug the small, untraceable comm link from inside his mattress.

 _WE NEED TO MEET. SAME PLACE. 0600. -7567_ Rex typed out with shaking fingers and hit send. He lay awake for the rest of the night straining to remember more than terror and the murky white images. He could only hold on to one image firmly: her face, dark skin, deep shadows ringing her sunken eyes, her lips framed in creased lines, and her vivid eyes the wrong color blue.

.

At 0554 Rex was briskly striding across Dul's empty bar, his boots thumping against the wood floor loudly. The place somehow looked dirtier without the patrons and the thick haze of hanging smoke. Probably because Rex could now see all the dirt and grime that was usually covered by shadows and shadowy beings. Fox was standing at the bar with a mug of caf, already waiting.

"You're on time, what a—"

Rex cut Fox off tersely, "It's a who, not a what."

"I don't have time for drunken babble, Rex," Fox said, turning around.

"I'm not drunk!" Rex snapped. Dul came out of the back through the swinging doors with a crate of clinking bottles. He swayed a bit on his peg leg as he walked.

"Then what the hell are you talking about?" Fox asked.

"What was the last address that you delivered one of OhAreEsAye's transfers to?"

"An office complex, part of 700 Corus Tower."

"That's what I thought. I just finished a pick up at Corus Tower." Rex jumped a little as Dul slid a cup of caf over the bar. He picked it up but didn't drink it. He still felt wired from the adrenaline of his dream-memory.

"You saw something?" Fox asked.

"Someone," Rex corrected. "OhAreEsAye isn't an acronym, it's a name. Orsa. Dr. Orsa."

"Who is that?"

"I have no idea, but I've met her before."

"When?" Fox was leaning toward Rex and gripping his cup with white knuckles.

"Before my interrogation, in those hours I don't remember," Rex admitted, looking down at his caf. He could still recall the feeling of terror and helplessness strapped to that table. Thinking about it made his fingers tingle like the blood was cut off by restraints that were no longer there. "They've started to come back." He couldn't keep the waver out of his voice voice.

"She was the interrogator?" Fox demanded.

"I don't know. All I remember is the lab." Rex shook his head, trying to clear the all too vivid memory of terror.

"What lab?"

Rex took a shaky breath before he could respond. "I was taken to a lab after my demotion… for reconditioning," he added the last word softly.

"Reconditioning?" Fox asked slowly and Dul stopped restocking his shelves.

"The Kaminoan kind," Rex confirmed their fears, and both men straightened up a little.

"I don't understand. You were being transferred…"

"Walli told me a year ago that no one was going to leave Luke's guard alive. He was right. There was too much secrecy around that kid. The Emperor couldn't just let a soldier who'd seen the boy back into the regular ranks."

"Then why are we alive?"

"Because what we know is useless. No one can prove any of it because there's nothing left to find. The Emperor doesn't have Luke anymore," Rex tried to sound impartial about the last statement.

"But while he did, you were a liability," Fox concluded.

Rex just nodded and plowed on quickly through his story. "I don't know exactly how I got to that lab or where it was. The memory is still vague. I remember the doctor though—it was the same woman I saw while I was loading equipment at Corus Tower."

"You think that's OhAreEsAye?"

"The stormies that were with her called her. Dr. Orsa."

Fox licked his lips nervously and put a hand to his chin. He looked away from Rex beyond the walls of the bar, at something in the distance. Dul turned around to his brothers and crossed his arms. His red eye swiveled back and forth between the two of them.

"We need to talk to her," Fox said softly.

"And how exactly are we going to do that?" Rex asked. "She was under constant guard when I saw her, and her lab could move again at any moment. This is _why_ they keep her moving, so no one can find or target her."

"If they're going to this much trouble to keep her hidden and protected than she's important," Dul said, cutting into the conversation. "But if you're going to get her alone for a little chit-chat, you'll need help."

"There aren't many of our brothers left in the corps," Fox said, shaking his head, "and we can't trust mongrels."

"They wouldn't be much help anyway," Rex muttered.

"Coruscant's a big place," Dul said smoothly, "and trust can be bought."

"Hired help?" Fox asked.

"Criminals?" Rex added.

Dul shrugged. "I know of a Hutt that might be able to find what you need."

"Maybe after our next payday," Rex said acidly.

"We don't have anything to bargain with," Fox translated more diplomatically.

"You may not know you do, but you do," Dul said with a smug look on his expressive mouth. "I could make some calls."

Fox looked at Rex. The latter frowned and considered. It wouldn't be the first time he'd worked with shady people to achieve an end. Skywalker was known for using whatever resources he had, moral or not. Dul was right, they couldn't do it alone and Orsa was their best bet at learning anything. They needed the woman to talk.

"Do it," Rex said, nodding. "I'll owe you one."

"You already owe me, _vod. Ke'cuyani akay lise utreya gar entye._ " _Survive until you can repay your debts._

" _K'oyacyi!"_ Rex replied and lifted his mug to his brother. Dul made an amused humf noise and headed into the back again. Rex hid his smile in his cup. It was at least decent caf. When Rex put his cup down Fox was staring at him. Rex narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

"Say what you're going to say, Fox. You've never pulled your punches before," Rex said, feeling uncomfortable under the look of scrutiny he was getting.

"Why didn't you run if you knew you were going to die? Why not have the Mandalorian's save you? They could have done that with skills like theirs."

Rex turned away and looked down into his cup again, fighting to keep his face impassive.

"It was about the child, the little boy, Luke!" Fox realized. "You didn't want the Emperor to have him."

"Luke is long gone," Rex said. "It doesn't matter now."

"How do you know the Mandalorian's aren't worse than the Empire? Who knows what they've done with him. They could have sold him into slavery…"

"They wouldn't!" Rex snapped back. He could remember the look of animalistic fury on Skywalker's face at the mention of slavers. Rex wouldn't let Anakin's child, Padme's child, become a slave—especially not to the Empire!

"How do you know?" Fox demanded.

" _Jorcu val cuun'aliit!_ " Rex hissed. _Because they're our family!_ Fox's accusing glare didn't waver for a moment. Realization was slow to dawn on Rex. "You already knew," he muttered.

"I heard their voices when Walli tapped into their comms. Just because they're clones doesn't make them family."

"It isn't just that! I trust them. They'll keep Luke safe. They owe me that much," Rex explained.

"I see." Fox said and pushed his empty mug across the bar. He turned to go calmly.

"That's all you have to say?" Rex stared in confusion.

"Yes," Fox said over his shoulder. He paused at the door of the bar. "For once, Rex, I understand you." Without another word he left. Rex just stared after his brother.

"I don't understand you at all," Rex said to his cup of caf.

.

Author's Note: My chapters are getting longer (AHHHH!) but I don't want to split them up anymore (AHHAAAA!). I'm actually starting to like Fox as a character. It's really a surprise. My sister, who's been helping me write this, said it's all about perspective. Well, I hope it was at least entertaining. I _promise_ Ahsoka will be in the next chapter. Favorite, Follow, Review... or don't... but I would love to know what you think. –Em.


	12. Chapter 12

Author's Note: So action this chapter... and AHSOKA! I did promise. Enjoy and if you have a second leave me a review. -November

 **.**

 **Chapter 12: Prisoners**

 **.**

Ny glanced sidelong at Djela Kur cross the Cornucopia's cockpit. He sat hunched over, like a hunting snake curled up to strike its prey. His eyes were half closed into slits and his long-fingered hands fidgeted over his stomach. In that moment, Ny missed Terin fiercely. She missed his quiet calm and small reassuring smiles, even the inappropriate suggestive winks he would give her in stressful moments. They used to make her laugh and distract her from the dangers of the life they had lived. There was nothing to distract her now from the truth: she was transporting a criminal and his merchandise through a lawless region of space, alone. She wished Terin was sitting in the co-pilot seat beside her and she could tell him she was too old for those amorous looks, just to break the silence.

But her husband was dead. It wasn't the life that he'd tried to leave behind, one of shady deals and constant threat, that got him killed in the end; it was a war that he had no part in. The galaxy struck Ny as ironically cruel sometimes. She hadn't always seen it that way. Once she'd believed in some kind of karma that would make sure the evil were punished and the good rewarded. That was before she'd fallen in love with a ruggedly handsome and enigmatic young pilot, a good man drawn into a bad life by unfortunate circumstance. She learned from him that the galaxy was decided by luck.

That was four decades ago, four decades of hard years and harder times. Ny barely recognized her old self in her memories. She certainly didn't feel like the hopeful young woman, ready to tear the galaxy apart for a man she loved. But she had defied some powerful forces for Kal Skirata…

"You look good Ny," Djela said in his language of warbling grunts, breaking the professional silence that had fallen on the cockpit since she picked him up.

"I am," Ny said, punching controls a bit harshly as she maneuvered past the space-junk rings of Dara-9. It was one of the oldest inhabited planets in the sector with the largest spaceport within easy jumping distance. It was also as dangerous as Nar Shadda without the Hutts to maintain any balance of power in the area. The skies over the planet of jagged mountains had been the site of many hijackings and outright gang violence. Shattered hulls and remnants of ancient ships gave the planet a hallo of treacherous debris. It was a virtual gold mine for scavengers.

"I was almost sure that you would retire after what happened to Terin."

"I practically have."

"From what I heard you're still doing some hauling around the Mandalore sector."

"Who told you that?" Ny asked, feeling her heart lurch in her chest.

"Oh you know me, I just hear things," Djela said. His wide set eyes slanted further closed.

"Your hearing must be going. I don't hang around the Mandalore sector if I can help it."

"I see," Djela grumbled but it was impossible to tell if he really believed her. Ny fought the reflexive urge to gulp. She steered the ship clear of the last of the debris, as the ship's computer completed charting a course out of the Jutta Sector. She ran through the last pre-jump checks before engaging the light-speed engines. She gave herself a moment just to enjoy the streaming white lights of hyperspace filling the view-screen.

"How long will it take?" Djela asked.

"We'll arrive in Catharia Space in three hours," Ny said, glancing at the calculations.

"Humm."

"What's the rush?" Ny asked.

"Nothing you need to worry about," he said. "The sooner I get rid of this cargo the better. It's in all of our best interests to get this done quickly."

"I don't like being kept out of the loop, Djela," Ny shot back at him.

"Then you must spend a lot of time being frustrated with your clients," he replied and slowly unfolded himself. He went back to the empty crew bunks off the cargo bay and squeezed into one without another word. Ny frowned and glared back at him. Her gaze drifted from him to the single crate that was his cargo. It was a six foot long rectangle, half as wide and a foot and a half deep: about the size of a carbonite-freezing frame. If that's what it was she didn't know why he needed the extra cover. Carbonite was diamond hard protection on it's own. She forced herself to turn back to monitoring the ship's course.

 _It's best to leave Djela's business to him,_ She told herself. _Once I get him off my ship it won't matter. It doesn't affect me anyway._ In her mind she could almost see Terin's uneasy expression, the one he would get on a stressful job when he thought she wasn't looking. But almost immediately after the image of him solidified, it was pushed out by the more recent, vivid memory of Kal's angry ultimatum and his smug response to her cussing.

" _I'd rather be the krettle that saved your life than the man who let you die."_

At least if she got herself killed it wouldn't be for his lack of trying to save her. Kal Skirata didn't _let_ her do anything. Ny was determined to be her own woman, no mater how likable the old mando was.

As she thought about it she realized it was probably a good thing she didn't have A'den with her. He would be obvious proof she was working for a group of Mandalorian's now—more than working for them. _I lived with them,_ she though. _'Lived',_ she realized she was thinking about it in the past tense. _Do I really think I'm not going back?_ She wondered. Even if she wasn't, she didn't want to do anything that might compromise them. A'den was a sweetheart under his armor and rippling muscles; he was the kind of man she would have wanted as a son back when she and Terin were planning a family; Something always got in the way.

Ny looked around the cockpit, spotting Djela's bag in the far corner. She glanced back at the Illothorian curled up on the bunk. The soft burbling sounds of his sleeping breaths were coming steadily. Ny shuffled across the deck as quietly as she could in her boots. She flipped his bag open and peered around. There were a few changes of clothes, money, hygiene supplies, and the item she was looking for, his comm link. Ny dug it out.

A quick scan through the contents showed it was new. Djela had only bought the comm the day he contacted Ny. That meant he'd lost his previous one or ditched it. Given his history, Ny leaned toward the latter. If Djela was running from someone it would explain why he called her instead of one of his many other contacts. Ny hadn't been connected to him for years even before Terin died. She scrolled through the short call history, absently reading the unlabeled frequencies. Her thumb paused on the controls.

"Fifty five Fifty one," Ny whispered the prefix-code under her breath. She didn't have a lot of frequency codes memorized but that one she knew. _What is Djela doing contacting Imperial Transport Authority?_ Ny wondered. They would happily grab Djela for the crimes he's committed. He would only turn to the Empire if he had a bargaining chip, something to keep the heat off himself.

Ny's gaze turned from the comm link in her hand to the crate strapped to Cornucopia's cargo deck. There was an ITA outpost on Catharia. That was no secret. Djela might not even have to land on the planet to make whatever deal he had planned. Once they came out of hyperspace, whatever Djela was transporting would be as good as Empire property.

Ny wasn't comfortable handing anything over to the Empire unless she knew it was useless. She had a vested interest now in undermining them at every turn. They had been responsible for so many wrongs. As far as she was concerned they were to blame for Terin's death, for A'den's pain and everything his brothers went through, for the people killed in the Clone Wars, and that wasn't even counting the things they had done afterward.

Ny slipped the comm link into a zippered pocket of her flight suit and moved as silently as she could toward the crate. She kept her eyes on Djela's back as it rose and fell slowly with his even breathing. She lifted a pry-bar from a side hatch, flinching when it clanged against the lid. She crept toward the box. Once she wiggled one of the straps away so she could ease the bar's flattened end under one plank. The wood groaned and creaked when she slowly applied force to it, then suddenly released with a soft _pop_!

Ny froze at the sound and looked over at Djela. His even murmuring breaths didn't so much as hitch. She kept her eyes on his as she slowly lifted the board free. One quick look down was all she need. The pry-bar slipped from her hand and landed with a hollow thud on the box. She clamped the other tightly over her mouth to hold in a strangled gasp of horror.

Ny went straight for the controls with only one thought: getting the Illothorian scum off her ship as soon as possible. She drew her blaster with one hand and keyed up the hyperdrive computer with the other. She picked the closest port at random. It was Nemoidian, a Trade Federation outpost. For the right price they could take Djela off her hands. Whatever it was, she was willing to pay. Maybe Kal would reimburse her.

The ship shuddered as it dropped out of hyperspace. Ny didn't pause before starting up the sub-light engines.

"What are you doing?" Djela cried out behind her. Ny spun in her chair, raising her blaster, but before she had even finished turning long bony fingers grabbed her wrist and wrestled for the weapon.

"You -! You'll get us both killed!"

"Get the hell off me and the hell off my ship!" Ny screamed and fought for the blaster. _Why didn't I bring A'den_ , she thought angrily just as the ship began shaking with the buffeting force of atmospheric entry.

Cornucopia rocked and shuddered as it plummeted down through the atmosphere. From the planet's surface the ship was a streak of red burning across the sky. The assorted freighter pilots and dock workers below could hardly make out what it was but the sensors on the high towers of the Nemoidian Trade Federation Building pinged the transponder and received a clear signal back.

.

"You don't understand!" Ahsoka cried and struggled against the large hands that gripped each of her arms. "I'm no one. You don't want me. I don't know anything." The towering mountains of rippling, sun browned muscle on either side of her didn't pay her any attention. They dragged her down the steep steps into the basement of the compound, like she was a disobedient animal on it's way to slaughter. She stumbled along a short distance before they pulled her to a halt in front of a small doorway secured with a keypad.

"Inside!" the slightly larger guard on her left said gruffly. He dragged Ahsoka over the threshold as she kicked out at his shins in retaliation and tugged uselessly at the bonds around her wrists. Both of her escorts took firm hold of her arms and shoved her roughly into the small, dim chamber. Unbalanced by her bound arms, Ahsoka stumbled and fell in an undignified heap on the dirty floor. She nearly gagged at the putrid smells of sweat, urine, and blood in the cramped room. She rolled lithely and curled her legs underneath her. Standing in one fluid motion, she made a dash for the door. Arms shot out across her path like solid bars, stopping her dead. They threw her back and she fell hard on the dirty floor again. Ahsoka bit back a curse at the pain radiating from her hip and elbow.

"P-please, I don't have anything you want! I'm just a refugee!" She lied and whimpered theatrically.

"Quiet!" The guard to her left snapped. She felt his intention in the Force a moment before his hand lashed out toward the side of her head. She leaned as much as she could out of his backhanded attack without appearing to miss it. On her sensitive montral, even the softened blow made her dizzy with pain. Her involuntary wordless outcry was real, but the sob that followed was faked to cover her angry instinct to growl.

"She was asking around at the tap-caf for a man called Sayne Heeran," one of her captors said, "and she was carrying these." Ahsoka looked up to see the larger of the hulking guards holding out the leather gun-belt holding the shinny chromium DC-17s. She followed the guard's gaze to the alien creature perched on a small chair set on a high pedestal. He sniffed his short trunk-like nose and his wings fluttered with a soft buzzing sound.

"I see," the gangster drawled in his nasally grumble.

 _So this is Bedjiim,_ Ahsoka thought. She gave him her best expression of terror and felt the visceral satisfaction it gave him through the Force. It was hard to hold back her sneer of disgust.

"I-it's just a name," she said quickly. "I-I don't even know him, I swear."

"Then why were you asking for him?" Bedjiim asked. Ahsoka shuffled back from him a little and pictured familiar white armored figures marching up the steps of the Jedi temple; her lekku shuddered at the mere thought. By Bedjiim's satisfied emotions emanating in the Force, he was convinced by her charade.

The toydarian made a slight flicking motion with his claw without breaking eye contact with Ahsoka. Strong hands grabbed her under her arms and hauled her upright. She barely had her feet underneath her when a solid fist snapped out and into her stomach. Ahsoka gasped and choked as the air was force from her lungs. The strong hands dropped her and she crumbled back to the floor, doubling over and coughing for breath. She forced the growl building in her chest to become a half convincing groan of pain.

"Please, please just let me go," she whispered. She was losing patience with the game. Ahsoka looked up at her captor. He was a pool of excitement in the Force, far too enamored with the power he though he had over her to see through the act. She probed his mind gently, feeling little resistance. He was too distracted by his anticipation to notice her influence.

"You _know_ I don't know anything," Ahsoka whispered, using the Force to open his mind to her words. For a moment she felt his assurance and anticipation waver. Then his mind snapped shut to her and broke from her mental grasp.

Bedjiim waved one of his guards over with his claw and whispered instructions in his gravelly voice. Ahsoka tried to make out his words, but the echoes in the small space reverberated in her montrals. The guard hurried from the room, latching the door securely behind him. Ahsoka heard his footsteps descend further into the basement labyrinth and then two sets returned to the door. On the other side she sensed two presences: one assured and impartial; and the other felt like dry, cracked earth—exhausted and lifeless. She turned to look at the door so Bedjim wouldn't see the satisfied smirk forming on her face.

The door opened to admit a tall, dark-skinned man with a lax expression of pure despair underneath the molting of bruises on his face. He limped and stumbled as his escort shoved him into the small, dirty room. Ahsoka frowned; his limp was going to be inconvenient.

Sayne looked up slowly, his gaze falling on Ahsoka. His clear grey eyes widened when they met hers. She felt his recognition as much as saw it in his expression.

He whispered in a dry voice, "you're a…"

She didn't give him time to finish.

Ahsoka rolled onto her back and vaulted onto her feet into a flash. With one Force-assisted movement she tore the leather bindings from her wrists. Her weapons were familiar and easy to find in the Force. They came willingly to her call, snapping into the palms of her hands, ready and accurately aimed.

 _Bzaap! Bzap! Bzap!_

She took out the shorter guard that had escorted her into the basement and Bedjiim's two personal aides before they could even lay hands on their own weapons. Sayne gasped, more in pain than in warning, as he was thrown aside by the brute behind him. Ahsoka spun on the spot and side stepped just in time for a hot bolt of plasma to shave by her side. She returned fire before the tall guard blocking the door could pull his trigger again. He crumpled to the ground with a dark burnt hole in the middle of his forehead.

"Behind…" Sayne cried out as Ahsoka spun back around, ducking and dropping to her knees to avoid the gangster's shots. Bedjiim fired haphazardly as he fled behind the relative safety of his high perch. Ahsoka shot back, keeping him pinned down and covering the sounds of his Huttnesse yelling with the sharp _bzaap_ and _hiss_ of hot plasma discharging.

"Run!" She yelled at Sayn and grabbed his arm, dragging him from the room. Sayne stumbled but thankfully remained upright. As soon as they were out of the doorway, Ahsoka pushed him forward toward the stairs.

A door on the far side of the hall opened in front of them, and two figures dashed out, silhouetted by the diffused light coming from the top of the stairs behind them. To his credit, Sayne didn't slow down. He flinched when Ahsoka's shots flew past him, but they only hit her enemies. The two figures fell before they could even make out their attacker in the gloomy hall. Sayne tripped on one of the bodies and fell to his knees. Ahsoka caught up with him and bent down to grasp his arm. She could feel how bony and emaciated he was through his dirty shirt and see his whole body quivering with each ragged breath.

"I'm sorry. I can't," Sayne panted. "I won't make it. You can't get killed for me. You have to save her!" His deep voice was insistent. It didn't strike Ahsoka as the voice of a man ready to die.

"No, I'm getting you out of here," she said and hauled Sayne to his feet. He stumbled and fell against her.

"You have to keep moving," she said in his ear, "Get up the stairs and go straight out into the courtyard. Do you understand? Just get that far and I'll do the rest. I will get you out of here alive, I promise. Now move! That's an order!"

Sayne gritted his teeth and eased weight back onto his injured ankle.

"Yes, sir," he forced out with military emphasis on the second word. Ahsoka could see his legs shaking with the effort of standing. He was starved and beaten, but his resolve was stronger. He looked up at her with bright amber eyes. She could see he didn't need codling or assurances; he needed a leader. She could be that.

Ahsoka put on the expression of calm seriousness she though of as her Commander face and nodded to him. She felt his strength fortify and his weight eased out of her arms. She gave him one last appraising look before she ran ahead.

Ahsoka took the stairs in three leaps, landing in a crouch to the left of the entryway just as it was lit-up with blaster fire. The bright sunlight pouring in from the open walkways and courtyard blinded her after the dim dungeon room. She closed her eyes, seeing nothing but the diffuse red of her own eyelids. She trusted the Force and let it see for her, guiding her aim as she returned fire and danced across the large room. She felt the heated trails of plasma against her exposed arms and her lekku. The gangster's men were bright lights in her sixth sense flickering out one by one.

"Over there!" Ahsoka heard one voice rise above the deafening din and someone's attention shifted away from her. Her eyes snapped open and she turned toward the shout. Sayne was stumbling across the courtyard in the center of the compound toward the far wall as she'd told him, but she could see his legs were giving way. She made a dash for him, just as the guards turned their blasts toward the courtyard. Sayne came to a stop at the wall, his shoulders dropping in disappointment the second before she ducked her head under his arm.

"Hold on," she managed to say, and she jumped. Sayne felt the ground disappear between his feet and small strong arms dragged him upward. For a weightless moment he hung twenty feet above the ground as courtyard crisscrossed with red blaster-fire. Then he was falling. Sayne cried out in surprise when gravity grabbed them. Ahsoka cushioned their fall onto the roof as much as she could, but Sayne landed on his bad leg and she heard the unmistakable snap of breaking bone. His cry of fear cut off suddenly, and his weight slumped against her shoulder heavily.

Ahsoka gritted her teeth as she grappled to find enough power to haul herself and Sayne off the roof. She jumped again and the roof sped away below her, giving way to empty space. Ahsoka didn't have time to smile at her good aim before she was falling again toward the row of parked speeders in the shadow of the compound walls. She landed on the wide back seat of the nearest one, Sayne's weight slipping from her grip.

"Back here!"

"Come quick!"

"Stop!"

She heard shouting from around the corner and, moments later, Bedjiim's guards appeared. She vaulted into the driver's seat and ducked under the console as the first shots whizzed over her head. She silently thanked her master for teaching her to hotwire just about anything as the speeder roared to life. Sitting up, the glittering identi-chip in the ignition caught her eye. She groaned and rolled her eyes at herself as she slammed the accelerator.

The speeder shot forward, tearing across the dry, sun bleached ground in a cloud of dust. A few wide shots flew past her, but she was out their range. Ahsoka turned to look back at the dwindling figures swarming around the sprawling building, then down at the unconscious man lying in the back seat. His face was relaxed and peaceful now but still unfamiliar to her.

 _But he knew me,_ she thought with a frown, _or at least what I am._ Organa hadn't said much about him and certainly hadn't hinted he had been a friend of the Jedi before the end of the war.

"He said he had information on the Jedi the Empire is still hunting," Organa had told her. "It isn't much but it may lead us to others still in hiding before the Empire finds them." Maybe that was who Sayne meant by _'her_ ', whoever it was he wanted Ahsoka to save.

Ahsoka turned her attention back to the landscape flashing by. It would be a mystery until he woke up and then she would do everything she could to help. As a Jedi, it was her duty.

.

Asajj Ventress was dozing in the pilot's chair of her small fighter craft as it drifted lazily in orbit over a barren backwater moon. There wasn't much more to do until her contacts dug up some useful intelligence on Djela Kur. She'd already put out all the feelers she could into the underworld without drawing too much attention to herself. That was always the danger these days. If she wasn't so worried about showing up on the Empire's radar she could be making a nice profit for herself as a bounty hunter but the risks were too great. Drawing the Empire's attention meant drawing the attention of the Sith. That lesson at least she had learned well: There is only ever one Lord of the Sith and he does not share power.

The console in front of her pinged and jerked Ventress from her half slumber. She opened one pale eye and gave the machinery a blood-chilling glare. It didn't even quiver, but a small light flashed on the display panel. With a weary sigh she sat up and read the scrolling text.

"What?" She muttered and her thin brows pulled together. _Can't be,_ she thought. _They can't be stupid enough to land on a Nemoidian controlled planet!_ But the readout was telling her otherwise. The _Cornicopia_ , the ship Djela had contracted to carry him out of the Jutta Sector had been longed in the Nemoidian trade registry. The network of ports used the registry to track the movement of resources so they knew where it was best to invest their money. It also made any ship that moved through those ports easy to track if you knew the right slicer.

"I guess it's my lucky day," she said to herself and flicked the hyperdrive computer. The lightspeed engines crescendoed to a resounding hum. The computer whirred and chugged for a minute before resolving a route. Ventress hit the throttle, propelling her into lightspeed.

When the streaming star-lines stopped suddenly and threw her ship back into the black void Ventress was just under a green, murky looking planet with wide oceans and violent looking storms. She barely gave it a glance. With a few flicks and turning dials, she started scanning for _Cornicopia._ The Monarch-class freighter wasn't hard to find. It was streaking up from the planet at a sharp angle far from any port or civilization. Ventress smirked.

"This is just too easy," she chuckled and took hold of the steering controls. She fired up the sub-light engines and gave chase.

Her small light craft was built for speed and maneuverability. It was nothing like the large bellied freighter with its wide set engines designed for efficiency and stability. Ventress came in overtop of _Cornucopia_ and eased lower, forcing the ship to slow it's accent and turn back toward the surface. It was quickly loosing speed with the increased friction of the atmosphere. She smirked again. Soon they would have no choice but to descend.

 _Cornucopia_ twitched violently once before it did a tumbling nosedive toward the surface.

"Amature," Ventress growled. She needed the bastard alive! If he crashed she wasn't going to get her bonus and she needed the credits badly. She leaned forward and plunged after her quary. Cornucopia swerved and spun in its wild decent. She could almost hear the drives when the ship pulled up from its helter-skelter dive. Her own craft lifted its nose gracefully and swung in low beside the freighter. Ventress prepared to give _Cornucoia_ a barrel roll spin with her right stabilizer when she saw movement on the aft compartments of the ship. Strange protruding mountings on the Monarch freighter unfolded to reveal familiar swiveling barrels.

" _Frak!"_ Ventress hissed and threw up her drag flaps. Cornucopia shot in front of her but the guns spun just as fast. They fired with concussive booms and flashes of bright blue plasma. Ventress's chair shuddered underneath of her. Alarms blared from every corner of her cockpit. The sound of her engines faltered and then dwindled down to nothing.

"I better get paid for this!" She growled.

Ventress unbuckled from her seat and drew one of her high powered hand guns. It took two shots to crack the view screen and one hard Force shove to send the transparisteel fragments flying out of the frame. They were immediately caught by the rushing wind and half of them became projectiles that hurtled back into the cockpit like flying knives. Ventress sliced through them with the Force, feeling them slide off the invisible shield she held in front of herself. She jumped out of her ship into the buffeting air, just as her stabilizers overloaded and went out with a loud bang and plume of black, oily smoke. The craft under her feet lurched and started to fall faster.

Ventress gathered power under her feet and bent her legs. She shoved hard with the Force and jumped, soaring off her crippled ship into the widening gap between it and the _Cornucopia_.

With one grasping hand she snagged the fender. She planted her feet firmly on the solid durasteel of the hull and pushed off again, concentrating on launching herself up and forward. She trusted the Force to hold her and spun in its grasp, falling again into a crouch on top of the freighter's engine housings. She only gave herself a minute to get her footing before she dashed forward, her head down into the oncoming air.

Ventress sprinted to the viewscreens at the front of the ship and vaulted over them to land in front of the pilot's view. She raised her blaster again and shot out the nearest frame. It burst, opening a hole in the ship. Like a diver she aimed herself through it and rolled when she hit the hard decking inside.

The Ilothorian at the helm yelled in his spitting, gurgling language. His words were lost behind a human woman's scream. Ventress spun around to get her bearings. The Force warned her a second before a blaster bolt burned a hole in the floor where she had landed. Ventress rolled again to get out of the way, coming up facing the human. She was short and gray haired, armed with a small blaster she was clutching in both hands.

At the ship's controls the Ilothorian pulled hard on the yoke, and _Cornucopia_ tipped upward suddenly. A prybar slid across the decking past Ventress's feet. The human stumbled and cried out, her aim flying wide and one hand grasping out for something solid to steady herself on. Her fingers found the single piece of cargo in the ship's rotund hold. It was a crate with one board half pealed off.

"Give my apology to your husband," the Ilothorian yelled over the rushing wind coming in the broken view screen. He had abandoned the controls completely. He stumbled over the sharply sloping deck to the woman and shoved her hard with his thin arms. She cried out and lost her footing. Her grip failed, sending her rolling across the deck right into Ventress. They both crashed backward onto the folded up loading ramp at the back of the ship. For being so small, the woman was heavier than Ventress expected. It took a moment to push the struggling human off. Djela Kur scrambled back up the deck and reached for a large lever on the far wall.

"No!" The human screamed the moment before Djela pulled the lever. Ventress felt the solid deck beneath her give way. She slid painfully down the rough, grated surface of the ramp and then dropped off the edge into empty space. She plunged into free fall looking up at the open cargo ramp of Cornucopia racing away from her higher into the sky.

 _Frak,_ she thought.

.

Ny had once fallen through the frozen crust of a river when she was younger and dropped into the frigid water below. The initial shock of the cold that engulfed her petrified her for the barest second and she tried to gasp. She could never forget the cold water, like sharp knives in her chest, and the terror that followed. The following seconds or minutes before her brother had hauled her from the frigid water were all a terrible blur to her. But she remembered coming up, coughing out water and heaving in painful lung-fulls of cold air.

She expected falling to her death would feel like falling through that sheet of ice. But it wasn't. It felt like coming up. Ny's first scream died on her lips as she plummeted toward the unfamiliar planet below. All she could hear was the wind in her ears and her own frantic heartbeat. She was cold, every inch of her body was frozen. She choked on breaths of too-thin air.

 _I'm going to die,_ she thought. _I'm going to die in this place I don't even know the name of alone and Kal will never know what happened to me. He'll have to look all his life and never know, just like me searching for Terin. I'm sorry,_ _Kal,_ she felt tears in her eyes immediately swept away but the rushing air.

She was about to die and all she could think about was how Kal and his boys would never get the closure of knowing why. Ny shut her eyes.

A thin, hard band wrapped around Ny's waist, it bent and pulled her hard. It became rock solid and dragged her upward, forcing the little air out of her lungs.

 _What?_ Ny wondered and opened her eyes, desperately trying to see through her tears. There was someone next to her, holding on to her as they both fell toward the ground. This strange woman had one thin arm around Ny and the other stretched toward the ground with her fingers splayed and her palm flat to the surface.

Ny felt like she was hanging by the thin arm around her middle, no longer falling. But the ground of green swampy vegetation was speeding up toward them alarmingly. Ny closed her eyes against her oncoming death even as the woman's arm pulled her harder and harder till Ny though her back was going to break under the strain.

Then she hit the ground. Hard enough to bruise her knees and the palms of her hands where she threw them out to catch herself but nothing more.

"Aaaghhhh!" The woman cried out beside Ny and fell with a wet, muted thud onto the soft, green moss.

Ny felt the moss under her hands, slightly rough and wet but warm. Luke-warm water was seeping up over her hands, green and murky. Ny breathed in great gasps of the humid thick air. It tasted like mildew, earth, and decay and smelled richly of growing and living things. Ny looked around herself at the stretching field of moss and low coral-like shrubs that dotted her view.

She laughed suddenly once, then twice until she descended into hysterical snickering.

"I'm a live," she finally managed to gasp. "I—I'm alive!"

"Yes, you old twit!" the woman on the ground beside Ny growled, finally stirring. She dragged herself up from the mossy ground on thin arms that shook. She was panting fast and shallow. Her skin was pale but slowly regaining an inhuman grayish tone and her head was patterned with purple markings that might have been natural. She was dressed in heavy leather clothing with blaster holsters on each hip, one empty and the other cradling a well-worn grip.

 _Bounty hunter,_ Ny thought and swallowed instinctively. Ny rolled onto her back and started edging away from the woman as she realized the situation was much worse.

 _Not just anyone could survive a fall like that. Only a Jedi or…_ Ny gaped open mouthed at Ventress as the former Sith apprentice straightened up and caught her breath.

"What? No thanks?" Ventress asked the gaping woman.

"Y-you're… Force-sensitive."

"Very astute." The words oozed sarcasm.

"W-what were you…" Ny stumbled over her words but her question was cut short.

" _Shut up!"_ Ventress growled and put the Force and her will behind the words. Ny physically flinched and fell silent immediately. "I'm asking the questions here. Who are you?"

Ny's lips quivered for a moment and she gritted her teeth. Ventress pressed with her mind on the woman's will, feeling it like a physical thing, elastic and fragile.

"Nyreen Vollen," the woman gasped.

"Why were you on that ship?"

"It's Terin's ship, my husband's… my ship," Ny gasped out.

"Who do you work for?"

"No one," Ny whispered but Ventress could feel that wasn't the whole truth.

" _Who_ do you work for?"

Ny gritted her teeth and curled up over her knees, wrapping her arms around herself as she cowered under Ventress's Force influence.

"Answer me!" Ventress snapped and pressed harder on her will.

"Kal Skirata, I work…for Kal." Ny clamped her hands over her mouth to stifle her horrified gasp.

 _I'm sorry Kal,_ she thought. _I'm sorry._

"Who is Kal Skirata? What is his interest in Djela Kur?"

"A mandalorian, he's a mandalorian. He doesn't want anything with Djela. He doesn't even know Djela."

"Then why was Djela Kur on your ship?" Ventress demanded.

"He asked for a favor. I was repaying an old debt of my husband's."

"Where is your husband?" Ventress demanded. If Djela was going to turn to someone for help that meant Ventress could lay a trap.

"Dead, he's dead." Ny's voice was thick with tears as she answered.

"Why did Djela want to come to this planet?"

"He didn't," Ny whispered, "I did."

"Why?"

Ny gritted her teeth and pressed her lips shut.

" _Why?"_ Ventress yelled and she pressed until she felt Ny's will was on the verge of breaking. The old woman screamed and grabbed at her skull, trying to hold it together as the physical pain threatened to tear it apart.

"The girl!" Ny screamed and Ventress let up enough for the woman to breath.

"What girl?"

"That's what he was transporting… It was a girl… a… a little girl frozen in carbonite. He was going to turn her over to the Empire for some reason. I don't know why they wanted her, but I'm no slaver. I wasn't going to be a part of that. I just wanted him off my ship!"

Ventress started down at the old woman curled up in the mud and torn up moss. She remembered the box strapped down in _Cornucopia's_ cargo hold. It was just big enough for a carobonite-freezing frame. It was sickening to think of a child, a young girl, frozen in there, strapped to the deck of a cold ship hurtling through space to an unknown fate. What would she wake up to? Ventress wondered. She would wake up alone, without her family or anyone to protect her.

 _I know what that feels like, that particular kind of pain,_ Ventress thought. She looked up at the sky where Cornucopia was a disappearing gleam of burning engines in the atmosphere past the column of smoke that was the remains of her own ship. She was stranded and exhausted, but motivated more than ever to find Djela Kur. He was going to regret the day she heard his name.

.

Author's Note: So…. things are moving along. Slowly. Poor Ny, scared half to death and now captured by a crazy Zabrak bounty hunter. Next chapter: MORE AHSOKA! Vorpa decides what she thinks of Kal and Rex bargains with a Hutt. Fun, fun, fun. Hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it. If you have a moment, reviews are greatly appreciated. -Em


	13. Chapter 13

Author's Note: Well… after that last action filled chapter this one is going to be pretty boring. I'm sorry. I'm setting up for more action; give me a little longer, please. –Em.

 **.**

 **Chapter 13: Friends**

 **.**

Sayn awoke slowly and unwillingly, clinging to his vivid dream of caf. He could smell the aroma, strong and bitter, like ambrosia from a previous life. It was mixed with the nostalgic smell of engine grease and the unfamiliar smell of exotic spices. In his dream he was lying on a soft bed and he was wonderfully warm and dry.

He didn't want to wake up, to be back in the darkness of the gangster's dungeon. The leaking pipe in the wall left a dribble rolling constantly into the corner and the smell of mildew was only slightly less revolting than the smell of excrement and piss coming from the bucket across the small room. For being in the desert, the cell was always cold without the sun to keep it warm. It was worse at night when he sat huddled in the corner, damp and shivering in complete darkness.

But even as he surfaced into consciousness the ground underneath him was still soft, the smells remained pleasantly spicy, and there was no trace of cold in his fingers. Sayn blinked and saw light. He squinted at the brightness until his eyes adjusted.

The cell and the basement dungeon were gone. He was lying on a bunk in a cramped cabin with a curved ceiling and a porthole window that looked out on a black field of stars. The walls were lined with cabinets and a medical droid was sitting deactivated by the doorway.

 _How did I get here?_ He wondered. At the same moment a woman moved into the doorway carrying a steaming mug. She was petite and graceful, with reddish umber skin and pale facial markings. Tall creamy white and navy blue horns curved up from her head and fleshy lekku rested on her shoulders hanging down to the gentle curve of her chest. She smiled at him and met his gaze with bright blue eyes. It stirred hazy memories out of his mind.

"Oh," he said aloud, "It was you."

"Good evening," she said in a Corucanti accent. She came into the small cabin bringing a fresh breeze of the wonderful smells coming from her cup. "How are you feeling?"

"Good," he said and tried to sit up. As soon as he lifted his head the room spun madly.

"Easy," she whispered in his ear and her small hands gently guided him back onto the soft bed.

"You're very weak. I gave you a painkiller a few hours ago," she said. "It hasn't completely worn off yet. You won't feel so good after that. Your ankle's badly broken."

"I don't remember that," Sayne said while he waited for the room to stop spinning. His words came out slightly slurred and mumbled.

"It was right before you passed out."

"I don't remember that either," he muttered. "I'd ask for some of that caf but I don't think I could sit up enough to drink it. Well… at least I'm warm," he said staring up at the strangely familiar woman. "Do I know you?" He asked her, genuinely confused.

"I'm not sure. You seemed to recognize me in Bedjiim's cell. I'm Ahsoka Tano."

"Tano…" The name was familiar, like he'd heard someone else say it. Then it dawned on him. He hadn't known her name when he first saw her, and she had looked much younger then. He only heard her name later when the younglings told him the story of their adventure with her. The two years since had aged her quickly into the woman who stood before him. _How could they not?_ He thought.

"You're a Jedi," he stated, a world of understanding wrapped in those scant words.

"Yes, I am," she said gravely.

"I do remember you. We were never introduced." Sayn explained as his memories cleared. "You brought a group of young padwans to Riash to help the reconstruction."

"You worked with the GAR?"

"No, not exactly. I was a policeman before I retired. During the war I was part of the Rashan Volunteer Militia. We were helping to coordinate the relief efforts."

"Oh." Ahsoka looked slightly deflated and looked away, toward the star filled window.

"You rescued me," Sayn said as the full scope of his situation started to break through his drug-hazed mind. The effects were wearing off, and like she'd warned, he could feel a dim ache growing in his legs and particularly his right ankle.

"Yes. You sent a message to Senator Organa three weeks ago. When he couldn't make contact with you, he asked me to track you down."

"Organa? I—I didn't know if he would respond. I heard he was… sympathetic to rebels."

"You could say that," Ahsoka said with a smirk. Her amusement disappeared a moment later and she became serious again. The expression added years that should have been there to her face in seconds. "You said you had information on the Empire's search for the remaining Jedi. I'm sorry to push you, but time is running out for them. They might need my help."

"Well," Sayne flinched at the stab of guilt. "That's… not exactly what…. It's not the kind of information you think." He hated to give her false hope and then tear it away.

"What do you mean? Do you know something about the remaining Jedi or not?" Ahsoka glared at him and gripped her crossed arms tightly. He looked aup at the ceiling and his face slackened into the expression he'd worn when she first saw him. Apparently it had nothing to do with his captivity.

"I do. I have information on one, but I'm not sure either of us can help her now," he said in a tight voice. "She was traveling with me. I contacted Organa because I hoped he could help me get her to safety."

"Who?" Ahsoka asked. "One of the younglings that was on Riash?"

Sayne just nodded. His eyes became bright with tears before he screwed them shut.

"Katooni," he said her name softly and Ahsoka could feel his grief like it was a physical presence in the small cabin. It was a dark hole in the Force that swallowed up the core of tender care at his center. Woven through it all was greasy shame and caustic self-recrimination. Ahsoka's grip on her forearms loosened and her frown eased from anger to pity. Sayne reminded her vividly of Anakin. The last time she had been at Varikino Minor on Alderan Anakin had asked her about Luke, the son he had lost at the end of the war. The same emotions engulfed her Master then as those that were drowning Sayne now.

Ahsoka looked down at the decking, remembering Katooni. The young Tollothian padewan had been one of the few she had taken to Ilum to build their first lightsabers. Ahsoka had seen a lot of her friend Barriss in the young padewan back when Barriss had still been someone Ahsoka could call a friend. The memory of that betrayal bit deeply next to the blaster-burn scar on her shoulder. Like Barriss, Katooni was smart and shy, kind above all. Katooni had been able to see good in even the most self-serving, two-faced weeque pirate, Hondo Onaka. But when she needed to be, Katooni was brave. Ahsoka had felt the familiar tremors of fear in Katooni's aura when they fought the pirates. She felt the same fear in her clone soldiers every time they faced down the droid army and imminent death. But like them, Katooni's bravery won over her fear and despair. It was hard to think of those same soldiers turning on her.

 _Their betrayal must have hurt her too. What good does she see in them now?_ Ahsoka wondered. She couldn't imagine Katooni hating anyone, even the soldiers that betrayed her. Ahsoka was struck with the depth of her jealousy. She wished she could forgive them, forgive _him_. Then she wouldn't have to feel the anger and bitterness every time she saw her scared shoulder in the mirror.

Ahsoka folded down a seat from the wall and sat beside Sayne.

"Tell me what happened," she said softly. She saw his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed and he nodded once, a single dip of his chin. Bright tracks ran from the corners of his eyes over his temples and his smooth scalp.

"It started before the war ended," Sayne started in a horse whisper. "Katooni was one of the Jedi younglings that worked with us in the slums. That area was hit hard. Those people didn't have much before the war came to Riash and afterward… Things got bad there. It was dangerous work. There were a lot of hard feelings against the government and the Republic. The government had declared Riash neutral and tried to stay out of the fighting. Those people didn't care. They had lost their homes, everything they owned, loved ones….They were just angry." Sayne shook his head and for a moment a bittersweet smile pulled his cheeks up. "Katooni wasn't bothered by it. She was never put off by their insults. The glares and the sneers didn't seem to touch her. She worked harder than anyone, even harder than the clone soldiers. Those boys… they got up every day to deliver relief supplies to people that threw rotten food, rubble, and worse at them, and they never complained. I knew them…

"Or I thought I knew them. When the war ended it was early morning the in the capital. We were just getting ready to leave the barracks. The clones were packing the speeder-trucks. Some of them were grabbing a last cup of caf and finishing their breakfast and the younglings were with them. The men tried to keep them included. Commander Jaks told me they thought the Padewans were too young to see the horrors the war left behind. But most of the Jedi younglings were older than he was. Twelve year olds, that's who the Republic sent to fight their war, an army of twelve year olds. And they were trying to protect those Jedi younglings from the worst of it. It broke my heart almost as much as the destruction to my own people.

"Of all the clones that I knew, I didn't think that Jaks could do something like that." Sayne's voice trailed off. Ahsoka looked back toward the black window and tried not to see so clearly the scene that Sayne was painting for her. "Katooni was limping that morning. She'd cut her leg on a piece of rubble the day before. When I saw her, I insisted she get it treated. If I hadn't…" Sayne paused to take a deep breath. "The Order came down while we were in the medical center. I saw the clones draw their weapons and I pulled Katooni behind me. I fired back without even thinking. There were three of them in the medbay: shinnies was what Jaks called them."

"New troopers?"

"From Centax," Sayne nodded. "If it had been three of the old guard I don't think we would have made it out alive. I didn't know what was going on but I knew I had to get Katooni away from there. I was taking her to the back exit when Jaks caught up to us. I—I protected her and Jaks told me to stand aside. He explained what the Order was and why… why she had to die… She's just a child. How can she be held accountable for what the Jedi do? I couldn't accept that. Jaks shot at us—at me, because I was protecting her—and she saved my life, batted away the blaster fire with her lightsaber. I don't know if I shot Jaks or it was one of the ricochet blasts that killed him. I don't understand how he could do that… to me… to her…

I put Katooni in a supply box and I smuggled her out of the base. We passed through the main yard where the convoy had been preparing. I saw their bodies… children… all across the yard. And the troopers were standing around like it was all business as usual, finishing their morning caf. Those children had been their allies, their friends! A few minutes ago they'd been sharing a meal. They had cared for those kids for months. How could they turn around so easily and execute them?"

"They're not like normal humans," Ahsoka said softly. "They're manufactured and programmed from birth."

"How could we create beings like that? What monsters could do that?" He whispered, his voice breaking. "Children massacring children, it's like a nightmare."

 _Par vode kyr'amur vode, cuyi nu'staabi!_ Rex's words echoed into Ahsoka's head with a stab of pain. She didn't know much mando'a but she could work out that phrase. _For brother's to kill brothers, it isn't right! Isn't_ _it all the same, child soldiers killing child soldiers, weather they are Jedi or Clones? But the Clones aren't children like Katooni, they're not like real humans. They're something else. They have to be something else._

"Where were you when the Order went out? How did you survive?" Sayne's question jerked Ahsoka out of thought and she took a sharp breath.

"I was on Shili, the togruta homeworld. Someone … a trooper I thought I could trust warned me. He tried to… to trick me." She said vaguely. She didn't realize she was reaching for her shoulder until she felt the rough skin under her shirt. It took effort to keep her voice steady as she went on. "He lead them right to me. He couldn't even tell me why he did it. I managed to get away, but not unscathed." Her eyes glazed over as her memories consumed her. They dragged her mind back to the Shili planes, standing alone over the body of a man she once called a friend.

"I'm sorry," Sayne apologized softly and lifted a shaking hand to her arm consolingly. "I shouldn't have asked." Ahsoka shook her head, as much to dispel his worries as to throw off the memories.

"W—I wouldn't have lasted long without Organa's help. The Empire must have been chasing you. How did you escape them for so long?" Ahsoka asked, forcing her mind back into the present moment. The Jedi taught that there was no value in obsessing over the past; Ahsoka was trying harder than ever to embrace that philosophy.

"I took Katooni to my wife's family. She passed away some years ago, but her parents retired to a farm on Beltose; it's a little backwater in the outer rim. The Empire came there a month ago, and we fled. I reached out to anyone I thought could help. I was trying to get her back to Riash. I thought I could forge documents for her there, and we could hide … But I had to get her through customs. I hired Djela Kur to freeze her in carbonite so she wouldn't be found.

"He must have realized what she was and kidnapped her. The Empire is offering a bounty for any Jedi or force sensitive. He drugged me, and when I woke up in a back alley he and Katooni were gone. Before I could find them that gangster grabbed me. I don't even know how long I was in that place. It feels longer than a few days."

"Who is this Djela Kur?"

"Some lowlife carbonite technician who owes that gangster lots of money apparently. He put out a bounty on the scum. I saw the bounty hunter; she interrogated me."

"I can deal with bounty hunters," Ahsoka said assuredly. Sayne turned to look at her pointedly.

"This one is like you. She used the Force to make me talk."

Ahsoka frowned. _That complicates things slightly,_ she thought.

"We'll just have to find Djela before the bounty hunter does," Ahsoka said standing.

"Then you'll help—" Sayne gasped and tried to sit up. His head spun, and he trailed off into a pained groan as he fell back onto the bunk.

"Rest," Ahsoka said sternly, putting one gentle but firm hand on his shoulder. "I knew Katooni and I liked her. I will do everything I can to save her. The best thing you can do for her right now is to rest and heal. I'll save some caf for you."

He looked up at the young woman who was only slightly more than a child herself. Her eyes were old and tired, but they still had a fire of determination in them. He remembered seeing that determination and resolve in her face when she rescued him. She would do everything in her power to save Katooni.

"Thank you," he managed to whisper softly.

"My caf's not that good," she replied with a smile that hinted at a lively sense of humor. Sayne smiled back as his eyes drifted slowly shut. He succumbed again to his exhaustion more at ease than before just knowing someone was looking for his little girl.

Ahsoka smiled down at her new companion. _It's good to find there are still honorable, decent people in this galaxy,_ she thought. _That's reason enough to hope._

.

For all that it paid well, working for A'den was _shab'la_ boring. _I would have expected Tay'haai to have more interesting friends,_ Vorpa thought to herself, leaning back in her pilot's chair and admiring the cerulean blue sky over Hanath. It was the fourth planet they had visited in the seemingly haphazard search for _'her'_. _I don't know why A'den paid for my silence if he wasn't going to tell me anything,_ she thought. In every port A'den and his father had left her with the ship, just telling her to be on standby. So she fueled up, did small maintenance jobs, cleaned her weapons, sharpened her _beskad_ (saber made of Mandalorian steel) and then ran out of things to do short of scrubbing the decks. Vorpa looked down at the dusty and dirt-smeared panels under her feet. _Maybe that's not such a bad idea,_ she thought. She pondered the grime for a moment longer then gave up the idea. _I'll do it when I get back to Pariya,_ she lied to herself.

Heavy boots on the ramp jerked her out of thought. She glanced at the external cameras to confirm it was Kal and A'den without really needing to. The taller boy in lighter honey-gold armor was trailing after his stalking father in his sand gold, and heavily battered attire. They made quite a pair. A'den had never broken his easy going mood since they left _Manda'yaim,_ even as his father's dower disposition worsened with every passing hour. Vorpa thought of the tense little man as a primed detonator just waiting for something to set him off. She had the distinct feeling she didn't want to be that something. It was the kind of feeling that made turning her back on Kal difficult.

"Where to now?" She asked as the men squeezed into the small cockpit. A'den took the seat next to her, and Kal lounged on the bench at the back.

"No where," the old mando growled.

"We're waiting for one of our contacts to get back to us," A'den explained. "Could be a while."

"How long is a while?" Vorpa asked.

"I thought we were paying her not to ask questions," Kal griped.

"She's just trying to make plans, _buir,_ " A'den insisted. Kal frowned and looked away. Vorpa watched his curled right hand twitching as he fingered the tip of the hidden knife. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat and spun it around to face him more squarely. It put her in a better position to defend herself if need be. Kal didn't stay sitting for very long though. He jumped up with restless energy and stalked back out of the cockpit in silence. Vorpa and A'den both watched through the security cameras as she started pacing at the bottom of the ramp.

"He's more of a soldier than a hunter," A'den said, turning his gaze back to his datapad.

"I can tell," Vorpa agreed.

"He makes you uncomfortable."

She just shrugged in reply.

"It's not you he's angry at," A'den tried to assure her. "He's mostly angry at himself."

"Doesn't make him less dangerous," she answered defensively before deliberately changing the topic. "Not much of a family resemblance between the two of you."

" _Kal'buir_ adopted me and my brothers a few years ago, but he's raised us since we were two. We would have been killed without him."

 _That explains a little_ , Vorpa thought. It at least clarified why A'den was so devoted to the old man. She'd noticed A'den watched his father like a gage that told him how to react to the given situation. The other two men she'd seen with A'den had been about his size, large and solidly built. She assumed those were his brothers, Kal's other sons.

"What does Kal get out of it?" She asked A'den.

"What do you mean?" He asked, looking up with a furrowed brow and a frown. His mood could shift from serious to joking and back in the time it too to draw and fire his verpine.

"I mean what does he get out of having you as his sons? You look like you could make a lot of money as bounty hunters. A group of hard Mando's is very valuable in certain parts of the galaxy."

"He's not after money," A'den said flatly.

"But you do make him money don't you?"

"We have. But it…" A'den didn't get to finish. His comm link went off loudly and he scrambled to answer it. He took one look at the ID on the little device and jumped to his feet to chase after his father. Vorpa turned to the display screen to watch. A'den passed the comm to his father immediately. Kal stopped his pacing. The old man balled his fist and bent his head as he spoke tensely into the device. She couldn't hear them, but she didn't need to know what they were saying to understand it was bad news. It hit Kal hard, his shoulders slumping under some invisible weight, while A'den shifted closer to his father, unconsciously leaning in over the shorter man like he was trying to protect Kal. The angle of the camera didn't show Vorpa their faces until they turned around to board the ship again. She caught Kal's expression of exhausted despair before he schooled it into blank seriousness. Their boots were heavy and dragging as they came back into _Gra'tua's_ cockpit.

"Change of plans, _ad'ika_ ," Kal said to Vorpa, and she flinched. She hated being called that. "Take us back to Mandalore."

"I still want my pay when we land even if the job's not over," she said sternly, making no move to turn around.

"Get us home and you'll get your pay," Kal snapped back. " _Ner koor cuyi ner mircin!" I'm a man of my word._

Vorpa's hand slid unconsciously to the blade at her knee and the blaster she kept in a concealed holster in her armrest.

" _Udesii,"_ A'den said, putting a large hand on his father's shoulder. Vorpa wasn't sure who he was talking to exactly. "We'll be back on Mandalore before anything happens, _buir._ "

Kal huffed and strapped into his seat mutely. Vorpa turned away slowly and forced herself to let go of her weapons. She unfortunately couldn't pilot and hold a blaster on her guests at the same time. She needed to fix that one-day. A'den strapped in beside her.

"We're in a bit of a hurry," he said to her softly. "I'll tell you where to drop us when we get into orbit." Vorpa glanced at him while the drives were warming up. He had a far off expression and a worried furrow in his brow. The grinning, easy-going man she had been getting to know was nowhere to be found.

"I won't dawdle," she promised, "and I won't even charge you extra for it." Vorpa forced a small quirk of a smile when he looked over at her. The laugh lines around his eyes crinkled when he answered, even though the worried crease in his brow remained.

"Thank you," he said in a deep voice.

.

The smell took Rex back to Teth immediately. The unique mixture of sulfur, mildew, and sour vinegar was unmistakable and it permeated Qibbu's restaurant; Hutt. _How does anyone eat in here?_ Rex wondered. Just stepping in the door made his stomach roll and the hairs on his arms raise. He fought back the memories it dredged up. He could manage not to see the bodies and hear his brothers' dying screams, but the grief that had haunted him after that day wouldn't go away. It clawed a hole in his chest.

"I don't like this, bargaining with criminals," Fox muttered, following close behind Rex into the stinking hallway.

"You _are_ a criminal by most definitions," Rex reminded him harshly, and got a glare in response.

Qibbu's man, a tall lanky human with close cropped dark hair, led them into the main room where the Hutt himself was laid out on his dais. His heavy lidded eyes rolled slowly over to the two stormtroopers and quickly picked out Rex as the one in charge.

"Dul said you would be stormtroopers, he didn't say you would be clones," Qibbu drawled, eyes shifting between Rex and Fox's identical faces. Rex readjusted his helmet under one arm and swallowed bile.

"Is that going to be a problem?" He asked.

"Last time I let Skirata and his clone rabble into my place a lot of people showed up dead."

 _Skirata,_ Rex thought, _that's a Mandalorian name. It's better Qibbu doesn't know we speak_ Mando'a _or that Dul himself is a clone._ He decided to cut right to the chase, avoid any other touchy subjects if he could. He was anxious to get away from the stench and have the meeting over with.

"I don't know this Skirata person, but I'm not aiming to kill anyone. We just want a friendly chat with one of the Emperor's doctors. I'd be willing to trade the algorithms the Empire uses to generate security codes for a few more blasters and arms to carry them. But if you're not interested I can take my business elsewhere."

Qibbu laughed, a deep throaty sound that rumbled in his voluminous flesh.

"Where else would you take it? You don't have much to trade with."

"Maybe I'll look up this Skirata," Rex bluffed, his heart hammering against his ribs. "He sounds like a competent man."

"You wouldn't want to get involved with that man. I can get you what you need. You're lucky I want what you have… _if_ you can make good on your end of the deal. Double cross me and I'm not going to —"

"Don't insult us," Fox spoke up sharply. "We're clones. We're not bred to lie or cheat. You'll get the codes when we get the doctor."

Qibbu's eyes rolled over to Fox. The huge beast shifted around, sitting up taller or perhaps standing, it was hard to tell.

"You have a deal, clones," he said in his slippery hissing voice, drawing out the last word.

"Nasis will make the arrangements. Tell him where and when," Qibbu instructed them and motioned with one of his small arms to the man who had led them in. The two clones nodded to the Hutt and went over to join the mercenary at one of the side tables. Nasis was lounging in his chair with an obfuscating casual demeanor. Rex could see he had his blaster across his lap pointed their direction.

"Conall," Nasis introduced himself and held out his free hand amiably without putting away his blaster.

"Rex," the blond clone shook the offered hand, "and Fox," then motioned over his shoulder at his dark haired brother.

"Well at least you have different hair cuts otherwise I wouldn't be able to tell you shinny boys apart."

Rex slid onto the bench across from Nasis. He saw smears of grease and unidentified liquids on the table before he made the mistake of touching it.

"'Shinny'?" Fox asked. "Where did you pick up trooper slang?"

"I was Coruscant Security Force before the Republic went belly up. My old Captain—may he rest easy—was close with some of those clone boys Qibbu was cursing a moment ago. They were good men, poor sods."

"How did you end up here?" Rex asked. _What turned a cop into a criminal? Or a Soldier into a traitor?_ He wondered to himself.

"My old Captain and his family went missing after he 'moved' to Andara. People who disagree with the Empire tend to disappear like that now a days, so I decided to disappear myself before someone else did it for me."

"Smart plan," Rex said. _Self-preservation apparently,_ he answered his own internal question. Nasis was just trying to survive and maybe kick back at the Empire if he could Rex concluded from the anger he heard in in the former cop's voice.

"Who is it you want to kidnap?"

"A doctor," Fox answered.

"Which one?"

"That's…" Fox trailed off when he realized he couldn't say 'classified'.

"It's a bit of a personal matter," Rex picked up. "What we need is a distraction, someone to occupy her guards while we grab her. You just have to shoot at them and then disappear back into the undercity. Stormtroopers won't pursue you far down; it's against regs. They loose too many men otherwise."

"Oh, I know," Nasis said with a humorless grin. Rex heard Fox's gloves making stretching elastic noises as his hands tightened into angry fists.

 _Udesii, vod,_ Rex thought to his brother. _Don't loose your cool now that it's inconvenient._

"So where do you need us?" Nasis asked.

"We won't know until the day," Rex explained. "They keep her moving. When we get a location we'll call you."

"How long do we have to get into position?"

"Half a day, probably. It depends on how lazy my COs get with packing up the lab," Rex said with a roll of his eyes.

"Sounds like child's play," Nasis chuckled. "Qibbu's coming out on the better end of this deal and he knows it. Puts him in a good mood, which is good for me. I'll put my team together and we'll be ready when you call."

"Make sure you are," Fox told him as the clones got to their feet, "we only have one shot at this."

"Must be important to you," Nasis said. "I know you boys are loyal to a fault."

Fox paused as he lifted his helmet.

"We are loyal to our family." He said gravely. Rex noted that Fox had said family, not brothers. Nasis glanced at Rex and the blond clone just shrugged, making light of the issue. From his thoughtful expression Nasis didn't buy it.

"I look forward to working with you," the mercenary said to Rex, holding out his hand again.

"Just be careful which stormtrooper you're shooting at," Rex replied. He took Conall Nasis's forearm in a Mandalorian handshake as they parted. Rex saw Nasis grin, before he put on his helmet and followed Fox out of the Hutt's lair.

 _One step closer,_ he told himself, _one step closer to answers._

 _._

Author's Note: Sorry about the short chapter. I may have a bonus-y chapter with the Kyrimorut Aliit tomorrow... we'll see. It depends on my somewhat inconsistent proofreader/human sounding board. Leave me a review if you have a moment. I love feedback. -Em.


	14. Chapter 13 Part 2

Author's Note: This is the "bonus" chapter that I was going to post last weekend but my proofreader went on holiday… literally (she drove off with K-pop loving Kendo fanatics). I'm calling it a bonus chapter because it's not really what this story is about. It's all about the Kyrimorut Aliit, so if those guys don't interest you, you can skip it. If you want to get to know the Mandos better read away… or maybe it only interests me… maybe not.

I'll be back to the **actual** story next week hopefully. The next chapter is proving hard to write. Usually I like to have next weeks chapter done before I post. So I'm behind. Sorry to keep you waiting. –November

(Disclaimer: Karen Traviss created pretty much everything Mando.)

.

 **Chapter 13 Part 2: Brothers**

 **.**

It was impossible to miss the RV point. Vorpa saw it from a mile off. It was a short flight north of Enceri, a little backwater town buried in the Mandalorian countryside. A large green Mon Cal hybrid submersible was sitting on its landing struts in the muddy field A'den guided her to. A group of people, some in armor, some not, were moving around a fire and a camp set up on a dryer swell of the land.

Vorpa set _Gra'tua_ down a respectful distance from the camp. It wasn't smart to crowd any group of Mando's, even, and perhaps most especially, when they were employing you. Before the ship had settled on the soft ground, Kal was out of his seat. He jumped off the ramp before it was even fully lowered and started off across the field. A'den got up more slowly.

"Come on," he said, motioning to her, "my brother will have your money."

Vorpa opened her mouth to argue, but he was already climbing out of the ship. She didn't have much choice but to follow him out into the mud and the light spring drizzle. She snatched up her helmet and threw her long green braid of hair over her shoulder.

By the time she and A'den reached the camp Kal was already climbing up into the green Mon Cal hybrid-sub. The drives were primed, and it lifted off a few seconds later.

"So this is Vorpa," a merry voice very similar to A'den's said, and a Mandalorian in deep blue armor sauntered out from between the tents to meet the pair. He was as tall as A'den and just as firmly built. A few other equally imposing men ambled around behind him at various distances, all armed. Vorpa wished she'd brought more than just her knife and hip blaster off the ship. She'd have felt better with a _beskad,_ a heavy blade of Mandalorian iron, on her back. _Little good it would do me in a fire fight,_ she thought.

"I'm Mereel, A'den's brother," the man in blue introduced himself.

"You have my money?" She asked.

"I sure do," he answered amiably, but made no move to bring it out. "There's no rush though, we're just making a roast. Have a meal with us, A'den insists—well he would, but his manners are too good."

"At least I have manners," A'den shot back at his brother, but there was no malice in it. His voice was more relaxed than it had been on _Gra'tua_. Some of the tension he had carried on the return trip to Mandalore was eased away just by the presence of his family.

"I'll pass, thanks," Vorpa replied, but it didn't seem to dampen Mereel's spirits because he laughed.

"No really, we insist!" He said, "and I mean really." The grin hidden by his helmet was clear in his tone and didn't faulter as the hand on his hip lowered to the grip of his blaster. Vorpa narrowed her eyes and her gaze flicked behind her visor between the hands of all the Mandalorian's in firing range. Of them, only A'den wasn't set to draw his weapon. Four on one, it still wasn't going to be a firefight she could win. She held back a frustrated growl while her heart was beating loudly in her ears.

"I don't really have a choice, do I?" She asked.

"No, you don't," Mereel said. His cheer just infuriated her more. "But you'll get over it. We're really nice people once you get to know us."

"Yeah, your father's a real ray of sunshine," Vorpa said, crossing her arms.

"Aww, don't be too hard on _Kal'buir_. He's dealing with a lot right now. Things are a bit tense back home. That's why we've decided to have this little party."

"Stick around until we're sure you can't track us home," another of the Mandaloria's—the one in dark red armor—said, "and then you're free to go." From his voice and size he was another of A'den's brother. He stood behind Mereel with such straight posture he could have been at attention before a General. His words made sense though. She understood their paranoia.

"Could be worse," she said, shrugging in defeat. _They could just tie me up, or shoot me,_ she told herself. The stiff, red-clad brother nodded and turned around to march back into the camp.

"Great!" Mereel said, "You've made A'den's day." A'den punched his brother, his gauntlet making a metallic clang against Mereel's blue shoulder plate.

"That was Ordo," A'den told Vorpa, pointing after the stiff figure. "Ignore _Mer'ika_. This is Fi and Corr," he pointed to a Mandalorian in grey and red armor sporting the letters "M" and "S" on his helmet, the abbreviation of _mir'shupur_ , brain injury in Mando'a. Those letters marked the man as a veteran or just an unlucky shabuir. The second man A'den pointed to was wearing bright orange armor, the color of _shereshoy,_ loving life.

"I'll introduce you to the others later," he said, "Don't worry too much about remembering all the names."

"We could all just refer to each other by colors," the man in red and gray armor, Fi, offered, and Vorpa rolled her eyes in the privacy of her bucket. She wanted to tell him where he could put his wit, but it hardly seemed fair to put down a man with only half a brain. Instead she cocked her head to the side at A'den. _Everyone has one,_ she thought. He turned to look at her and he seemed to know what she was thinking, because his shoulders shook in silent chuckles.

"Good plan, _Gett'ika_ ," Mereel said jovially. _Ge'tal_ meant red. _Gett'ika_ meant little nuts or one with very little courage (small balls).

"Well played, _vod,_ " the Mando in orange said laughing and slapped _'Gett'ika'_ on the back consolingly.

 _How many of these people are A'den's siblings?_ Vorpa wondered. She looked over the group milling around the camp and picked out two women in _aruetyc_ clothing and more than half a dozen armored figures. _This must be his clan,_ she thought while she followed the little group moving toward the side of the ridge. Six old shabby speeder bikes were haphazardly parked in a line beside the camp. One was partially disassembled on a tarp with a woman in dark maroon plates of armor half buried under the chaise.

"How's it going, _cyr'ika," 'Gett'ika'_ asked, squatting down beside the bike.

"Just a clogged fuel valve," her voice echoed off the metal machine, "apart from being dirty there's nothing really wrong with these things."

"No one ever argued with easy money," a man in deep purple armor said. He glanced over at the approaching group and picked out Vorpa quickly.

" _Evaar'la adat_ ," _new girl,_ he said, more of a statement than an address, "I'm Prudii." He grasped her forearm in a handshake then introducing her to Kom'rk (another of A'den's brothers who wore dark green), Parja (the woman under the bike), and Jilka (who was one of the two women in civilian clothing). The other woman, she was told, was Besany, Ordo's pregnant wife who was minding the dinner. Vorpa took a moment to marvel that the Stiff was married. He didn't look like he knew the definition of the word 'romance' much less understood the concept.

"Alright, done," the female mechanic said, rolling out from under the bike once she'd reattached the last part. "Go ahead and start her up, F'ika."

Fi hopped on and didn't waste time revving the engine to a deafening roar. The _aruetii_ woman covered her exposed ears and backed away.

"Have we convinced you to get some armor yet?" the man in orange asked cheerfully. "It's a lot more practical than flimsy clothes, not to mention fashionable."

She threw him a half-hearted look of exasperation that didn't' conceal her smile. It seemed Corr was trying to make up for Kal's dark mood with his incessant cheer. He was the sunshine of the family, bright as his armor.

"Alright!" Fi said, letting the engine fall to a puttering idle. "Who's up for a race? Twenty creds says I can beat you ARC boys!"

"What?" the mechanic cried. "You can't race these. They don't belong to us!"

"But we've got to test them, right? Make sure there's nothing else wrong with them."

"Yes, but—"

"Why can't we have fun doing it?" He asked his _cyr'ika_ innocently.

"I'm in," Mereel cheered. "Corr?"

" _Oya!"_ Sunshine agreed enthusiastically.

"A'den? Kom'rk? Prudii?"

"Count me out," the purple man said with a shake of his head. "But I'll be the judge."

The mechanic groaned and put a hand on either side of her helmet as she shook her head. Mereel took that as permission and quickly jumped aboard one of the bikes. Sunshine leaned in to say something softly to the _aruetii_ before sprinting to the bike next to Mereel's. That left one bike without a rider.

"Care to join?" A'den asked as he swung his leg over the seat of a rusted machine still flecked with yellow paint.

"Me?" Vorpa question.

The Mando in green armor, a shade darker than her own, added as he passed her, "We know you're good for the creds—we're about to pay you handsomely—and Wad'e said you only ever lost to him,"

"That lying… I beat him by a mile!" Vorpa snapped defensively.

"Well then, go on, prove it," the purple Mando acting as the judge challenged. Vorpa crossed her arms and looked between the well-coordinated triple act of tall muscular brothers. She frowned behind her helmet.

"Go on," the mechanic said good-naturedly, with a tone of resignation. "They just love a competition, and you're the new and interesting contestant. Don't deprive them, or they'll mope." Vorpa threw her hands up in surrender, but smiled inside her helmet. _This could be fun,_ she thought to herself. _It's been ages since I got to race anyone that wasn't shooting at me._

"Hey, hey!" Fi cried. "Mereel's got terrain sensors on his!"

"Tough luck _vod'ika_ ," Mereel laughed.

"Turn it off, Mereel!" the Judge called as he drew a rough line in the mud with a stick. "Lets make this a fair race. Across the field to that big _veshok_ tree that got struck by lightning and back, first one to re-cross the line wins the pot: 120 creds."

Vorpa mounted up on her own bike and did a quick run over on the controls. It was pretty standard, a well-built classic. Like Mereel's, hers was outfitted with a terrain scanner that she didn't bother touching. Vorpa brought the bike to life and took a moment to enjoy the powerful purr of the engine underneath her. She pulled it forward to the line beside A'den. Mereel reeved his engine and whooped while the green Mando bent low over the handlebars, intently watching the Judge for the starting flag. A'den turned to give Vorpa an informal salute; in a helmet it was the equivalent of a cocky grin. She could imagine the expression on his expressive face.

" _Tsikala_!" the Judge called, " _Ke serim!...Jii!"_

Six speeder bikes shot off from the line without a moment of hesitation and hurtled across the field. Mereel quickly careened into the front of the pack with a few reckless swerving moves to ward off his brothers. Fi went off wide to the right avoiding Mereel's insane tactics. They could hear the Mechanic yelling from behind them not to damage anything, but her voice was quickly lost in the wind. A'den slunk in behind Mereel with the green brother and Vorpa close on his six.

Sunshine was pulling ahead of Fi by a nose when his engine suddenly stalled, and he glided to a slow stop in the middle of the field, cussing up a storm. Vorpa took advantage of a small rise in the ground to swing around ahead of the green brother, edging him out from behind A'den just as they reached the lightning struck tree. She cut the turn as close as she could and came up neck and neck with A'den behind Mereel.

They shot past Sunshine, still cussing at the machine, on their way back to the line. Mereel was already cheering his victory. He took one hand off the steering to pump his fist into the air at the moment his bike went over a patch of loose mud. The repulsors threw up waves of the slick earth and Mereel's one hand on the steering wasn't enough to maintain control. He spun out wildly right in front of his pursuers. At the same moment, Vorpa swung out to the side, swerving around the crash. A'den jerked his handlebars a split second before he crashed into Mereel's side. His violent turn sprayed mud in an arching crescent, dousing his brother from shoulder to boots. Vorpa saw Mereel spin out in the wrap-around view of her HUD and immediately let go of the throttle.

 _Shab!_ She cursed, her heart leaping into her throat. She turned to look at the two brothers in the mud. The green brother shot between her and Mereel, rain flying off the sleek lines of his bike to pepper her visor. Fi was just a second behind him and shot past on her other side. Vorpa watched A'den get control of his bike fishtailing in the mud and accelerate toward her. She put her head down and shot off after the new leaders as A'den came up beside her again.

The Judge was bent over and shaking with laughter when the green brother shot past him with Fi a hand's breadth behind. A'den drifted closer to Vorpa the moment before they crossed the line. She didn't notice until it was too late. He edged her far enough away from the line so she had to curve around him to reach it. Being on the inside of curve he had less distance to travel and pulled ahead by a nose at the end.

She cussed at herself behind her helmet as she slowed down. _Stupid!_ Di'kut! _You totally_ fracked _that up!_ She thought.

"Not bad," A'den said, pulling up beside her. She could hear him smiling. She swallowed and growled back angrily at him because she didn't trust her voice to sound calm.

"You pushed me out, jerk!"

"You could have pushed back," he challenged.

"They're not my bikes to crash!" She cried, exasperated.

"Relax," he said, good-naturedly but paused in a moment of trepidation. "It was just a little fun. Neither of us was going to win that."

Vorpa swallowed against the painful stab in her chest. _Damn,_ she thought, _now he thinks he did something wrong. Shab'la Di'kut!_ She took a deep breath and let it out slow as possible, trying to calm her racing heart.

"Not with your maniac brother around," she said in agreement. "Is he insane?"

A'den just laughed, though it sounded forced. Mereel was riding into camp, looking more black than blue with all the mud clinging to him. The Judge was gasping for air between guffaws and slapped a hand on his defeated brother's back. Sunshine marched his defective bike back into camp to the Mechanic. The young woman had descended on Fi with frustrated growling the second he stopped. She whacked his arm hard with a hysdrospanner, catching the side of his shoulder plate in a high-pitched clang.

"I can't believe I let you talk me into that. Look what happened!" She motioned at the dead bike the Mando in orange was leading back. He parked it next to her and slunk off sullenly.

"Aww, Cyr'ika, I'm sorry," Fi sounded so painfully genuine even Vorpa could see why the Mechanic couldn't stay mad at him for long. "At least we know one of them still needs work."

"And I expect you to help me with it."

"I love helping you," Fi said, his innocence gone and with far too much excitement for just cleaning carburetors and tuning exhaust manifolds.

"I mean real work," the Mechanic grumbled as she stalked past Vorpa with Sunshine's broken bike toward the tarp and her toolbox.

The _aruetyc_ woman picked her way over the muddy ground to join Sunshine watching Mereel shake off the worst of the mud. Vorpa saw her put a consoling hand on his bright shoulder plate and he perked up, turning to talk to her animatedly. _Some people can just make the most of anything,_ Vorpa thought.

"I guess there's more than one way to win," A'den echoed her unspoken observation, clearly watching the same thing she was. As A'den turned away from the flirting couple and dismounted his bike, the winning brother came jogging up to his side.

"Stop looking so smug," A'den said before his brother could even speak.

"You can't see my expression." The smug grin hidden behind the green helmet was evident in the winner's voice.

"I could _feel_ you gloating at fifty paces." A'den slapped two ten cred chips into his brother's hand reluctantly.

"I'm tied with Prudii now," the winner said, tossing the credits in his palm tauntingly.

"What's he talking about?" Vorpa asked, digging in her belt pocket for the money she owed her fellow green armored Mando.

"The running tally," he said, accepting her credits. "Taking into account the number of races, who participated, and who won, I'm tied with Prudii now for the highest score."

"You keep a score?" She asked A'den. It sounded a lot more complicated than just how many wins each brother had. _Who has time for that?_ She wondered.

"Of course. Every race since we were two."

"That's…." _weird,_ she thought. "Impressive. Who's winning?"

"Mereel, Ordo's in second, I just pulled ahead of A'den to tie with Prudii, and Jaing's in last."

Vorpa frowned. _So Fi and Sunshine… Corr? Was that his name... aren't their brothers?_ She wondered. She has just opened her mouth to ask why only those six were included in "the running tally" when a woman's voice called down the hill.

"Dinner's ready."

" _Wayii!"_ the Winner cried and vaulted over A'den's bike toward the camp. The Judge, Fi, and Mereel ran up the hill behind him. Mereel seemed to have gotten over his loss, because he was whipping mud off his plates and throwing it at his brothers playfully.

"I'll save you some, _ridurr,"_ Fi called over his shoulder to the Mechanic. She was half-hidden under one of the rusty machines again. She waved an electrowrench at him and Vorpa caught a few growled expletives coming from the tarp.

 _I wonder if she married him before or after his head injury,_ she wondered. The Mechanic, Parja, seemed too smart and down-to-earth to marry a simpleton like Fi. Maybe he'd been different before whatever happened to him.

"We should hurry or there won't be anything left," A'den said to Vorpa.

"They can't eat an entire roast that quickly."

"Oh, we'll try," he said, and she could hear his easy grin was back. She relaxed, relieved that her harsh words were forgotten for the moment, and they started up the hill after his family.

.

"What happened to you?" the tall, blond woman at the top of the hill asked when Mereel came into the camp. "Get out of that before you come anywhere near the food."

"Yes, Besany," Mereel said meekly and slunk off to his tent, while his brother's snickered and went on to the fire. A'den ran up to join them while his companion approached with more caution.

Vorpa was immediately struck with the blond woman's beauty. Her delicate features and fair skin didn't fit with the sturdy utilitarian clothing and weathered boots she wore. It couldn't have been more clear that Besany didn't belong there. Vorpa tried to convince herself the tightness in her chest when she looked at Besany's swollen stomach was disgust not jealousy.

"You must be Vorpa," Besany said kindly to the woman in green armor. "I'm glad you could stay for dinner."

"I didn't have a choice," Vorpa muttered back. _Patronizing_ landuuryc aruetii, (weakling outsider) Vorpa thought bitterly.

"Well, I'm glad you're here anyway. We don't get to meet a lot of new people." Besany led her forward into the camp, tottering slightly with the added weight on her belly.

Logs and low benches were set up around the happily crackling fire, already rich with hot embers that warmed the air around the center of camp. As the sun went down it would get colder and they'd be happy to have the warmth. The boys were already descending on the meal spread out on a long bench and the roast that was propped up on it's spit beside the fire. They carved off large chunks of meat from all sides like they were afraid it might run away. The Stiff, Besany's husband, sat on a bench with an already full plate and his red helmet at his feet, watching the frenzy with amusement. In the harsh contrast of the firelight his face was remarkably similar to A'den's.

"Think they'll save any for us?" the shorter, dark haired _aruetii_ asked, joining Vorpa and Besany to watch the fray.

"I think I made enough even they couldn't clean it all up alone, but then again… I've learned not to underestimate their appetite. It looks like A'den's providing for Vorpa at least." Sure enough, A'den had extracted himself from the herd with two plates in hand. He motioned to Vorpa to join him on the rough bench with the Stiff and she was happy to get away from the women. She felt more comfortable with men and machines.

"I should have warned you that food goes fast around us," A'den said when she sat down beside him. He passed over a deep sided camping plate filled with vegetables in spicy sauce, glistening slices of the roast meat still shinny with juices and fat rolls of dark, dense bread. It all smelled tantalizingly like home cooked food. It was somehow completely different form pre-packaged conservator dinners or even tap-caf fare. It was painfully nostalgic for Vorpa, bringing up memories that soured what should have been the best meal she'd had in a long time.

"Happy you stuck around for the free food now?" Fi asked as he came over to sit near her.

"Considering the money we're paying her, minus _Kom'ika's_ winnings, it's a small inconvenience," Mereel added, plopping down between Fi and Vorpa as the Winner, Kom'rk, took the far end of the bench. Mereel reached over Fi's lap to give his brother his winnings, and snagged a slice of meat from Fi's plate in the same motion. Fi was pulling off his helmet and didn't notice. He shook out his dark hair, and plowed into his meal without hesitation. Mereel lifted his own bucket and winked at Vorpa as he bit into his stolen prize. Vorpa could only stare slack jawed at Mereel's face, her gaze moving past him to Fi, Kom'rk, Corr then Prudii, and back around the fire to Ordo and A'den. The last was looking at her and chewing with a patient expression.

"You all have the same face," Vorpa said dumbly.

"Yep," A'den said and took another bite of bread soaked in sauce without breaking her gaze.

"H-how?" Vorpa looked past him to Ordo. He was hovering protectively beside his wife offering her a plate. It was definitely A'den's face, not a trick of the light, but with an expression that she wouldn't have been able to imagine on him. Mereel was the same. It was A'den's grin, but there was something different about it, something less genuine and more leering. Fi's face had an endearing innocence, while the Mando in purple armor, Prudii, looked harassed and tired like an old man. But the features underneath were the same.

"We're clones," A'den answered her question. "Deserters from the Republic Army before it was the Empire."

"Deserters?" She asked.

"Can you be a deserter if you never signed on in the first place?" Mereel asked, leaning over to join in. "Cause I don't remember agreeing to anything and I have an _excellent_ memory."

"They decided they didn't want me," Fi said, "It was their loss. I'm clearly the handsomest brother here."

" _K'uur_ , Fi!" Kom'rk said, rolling his eyes.

 _That explains the head injury,_ Vorpa thought and felt a little twinge of guilt for thinking badly of Fi. She wasn't going to belittle him with pity thought.

"You see why we're paying for your silence now," Ordo turned around to join the conversation, having satisfied himself his wife was well pampered.

"Yeah… I guess I do," Vorpa said, her voice sounding far off. She was still looking between the identical faces in a state of shock. Without conscious thought she started eating, not really tasting the food. Conversation went on around her while the sky overhead turned from purple to deep, velvety blue. Vorpa found herself staring at A'den then looking at one of his brothers and then back, searching for some difference in their features. It was disconcerting, like identical twins talking in unison… times seven. Yet until they took off their helmets she couldn't tell they were clones. They were different people, with different mannerisms, personalities, and tones. _How can they be clones and be so different?_ She wondered. _No wonder they're so big and muscular, they were_ bred _to be perfect soldiers,_ ori'ramikad _. How did they get to be_ mando'ade? _Were they really cloned from Jango Fett? How does Kal fit into this? How did they all get here?_

"Seconds?" A'den asked her, looking back unbothered into her blatant stare. Vorpa started and glanced down in confusion to see that her plate was indeed empty. She nodded her head and it was whisked away. She watched A'den walk up to the bench of covered serving dishes. She noticed that he walked with more of a swagger than Corr and he wore his _kama_ more comfortably than Fi. There were small things aside from his armor color that made him distinctly different, that made him A'den.

Vorpa tensed when the dark haired _aruetii_ sat down in the vacated seat beside her.

"It's a bit disconcerting at first, but you'll get used to it," the woman said kindly to Vorpa. She spoke in basic with a heavy coruscanti accent. "Just be careful. They like to switch armor and impersonate each other. I endured months of that."

 _Like that could work,_ Vorpa thought sarcastically and snorted in amusement before she could stop herself. "I think I could tell the difference," she said while the hairs on the back of her neck rose.

"Challenge accepted," Mereel turned around with a nearly demonic grin. It looked strange on A'den's face. But it wasn't really A'den's face. It was Mereel's and Ordo's and every other man's in the camp. There were hundreds… _millions,_ if she remembered the hollo news right, of men with that same face. _They are_ **all** _brothers,_ she realized.

The coruscanti woman sighed and shook her head at Mereel, then stood up and headed for the bench of nearly cleaned serving dishes. A'den returned with the two plates that were less full this time.

"You have a big family," Vorpa said to him as she accepted hers, and he laughed.

"Yeah, I do."

"Hmm…" she chewed on a bite of the flavorful bread while she looked around the fireside and really appreciated the taste for the first time. Apart from the striking resemblances, the gathering looked like any other group of Mandalorians enjoying a peaceful evening.

"Ok," she said.

"Ok?"

"Ok. You're a clone. Your brothers are clones. That's ok." Vorpa nodded to herself and took another bite.

"Good." A'den agreed with his easy grin.

"You were testing me," Vorpa said frowning at him. "This whole thing was—is a test."

"We need to know if you can be trusted."

Vorpa's eyes narrowed and her frown deepened. "Why tell me at all?"

"It's easier than trying to keep it hidden and saves time."

"The Empire is still searching for you?"

"Yes. We are deserters. Kal, Besany, and Jilka are wanted for treason. The others are conspirators. Those are all crimes punishable by execution without trial in the Empire." A'den's answers were quick, simple, and coldly logical. He seemed to be able to flip from soldierly rationality to easygoing brother in a single breath. "Every time we reveal ourselves we're putting our whole family in danger. We have to be careful with the risks we take."

"How does Wad'e fit into this?"

"He was one of the Mandalorians Jango Fett contracted, along with _Kal'buir,_ to train clones on Kamino—that's where we were hatched."

Vorpa couldn't repress her shiver at the word 'hatched'. It was hard to think of A'den and the other men around her as being 'hatched' like fowl for slaughter. Seeing them the way she had down by the speeders, as rambunctious unique individuals, it was hard to think of them as being one cohesive entity the way clones were usually described. They were no more carbon copies of each other than children were copies of their parents.

"So how many more of you… of your brothers are on Mandalore?" She asked.

"Oh a few scattered here and there. We've been able to get some clones willing to desert out of Imperial service. Not all of my brothers on the outside live on Mandalore though. They're drawn to bounty hunting; it's what we know. And we're _really_ good at it." He added the last part jovially.

 _I know how hard that is,_ Vorpa thought, _to start over with nothing and no one. No wonder they go back to what they know. I guess that's the same as me_. _But A'den has Kal. Kal's more than just his adopted father; he's the only parent A'den's ever known,_ she realized. _No wonder he'll follow that old man anywhere. Kal has the blind loyalty of maybe a dozen custom grown soldiers. No wonder they made him money. They were the bounty hunter ideal, cloned from the Mandalore himself, a man who killed Jedi with his bare hands. That little, old chakaar stole himself his own personal army!_ She thought angrily.

"And you?" She asked A'den seriously. "Why are you still here? Because of your father?"

"That's part of it," A'den said nodding. His eyes drifted out of focus and the soldier's solemnity returned in an instant. He was about to say more when Ordo put a restraining hand on his brother's shoulder.

" _Vod,_ " he said, and gave A'den a pointed look.

 _But out,_ sheb'urcyin, Vorpa thought angrily. She wondered if Ordo knew how often he came off as an inconsiderate _shabuir._

"I'm not telling her anything sensitive," A'den defended. "She's more useful to us if she understands our situation." She was happy to hear he was annoyed too.

"What situation?" Vorpa narrowed her eyes and looked between the identical boys. Ordo was frowning at her, looking stiffer than ever.

 _What is Kal having them do for him?_ She wondered. _The amount of money they're paying me it must be pretty profitable. What does this have to do with the woman they're chasing? Did she cheat them?_ She repressed a shiver at the thought of what someone like Kal would do to his enemies given the chance.

"We've already said more than we should have," Ordo said cryptically. "We took a risk even letting you come here."

 _You threated to shoot me if I didn't stay!_ Vorpa thought furiously but held her tongue.

"Loosen up Captain," Mereel said, leaning around Vorpa. Apparently there was no such thing as a private conversation in A'den's family. "She's alright. Wad'e wasn't lying when he said she wasn't a half bad pilot. She at least managed not to douse me in mud. Those are fast reflexes, faster than A'den's anyway, but I think he was a bit distracted tonight."

A'den tore off a piece of his roll and threw it at his brother petulantly. Mereel laughed and snatched the bread out of the air, popping it into his mouth defiantly.

"I wasn't the one who spun out," A'den teased back. "You were the one too distracted to see the mud."

"You didn't see it either," Mereel shot back.

"Vorpa did," Kom'rk spoke up and all four heads turned his way. Vorpa felt her heart lurch and jump to a frantic pace, pumping ice cold blood down into her gut. She forced herself to look at Kom'rk's face.

"She turned a second before Mereel spun out," Kom'rk said, meeting her eyes with his level gaze. He had been just behind the leading trio, in the perfect position to see the accident, but the whole thing happened so quickly. It was all a blur in Vorpa's memory.

 _How did he notice?_ She thought in panic. Sweat broke out on the back of her neck and her armor was suddenly stiflingly hot in the humid night air.

"What?" Fi asked, swallowing the last of his third helping of dinner. "How did you know it was there?" He gaped at her.

Vorpa suddenly found herself the focus of five identical stares. Her mouth went dry.

"Actually… well…" She stuttered. Her cheeks turned vivid green, and she looked down at the dirt, unable to meet Kom'rk's gaze again. She felt her eyes stinging and gripped the hard sharp edge of her thigh plate with her hand. Even through her glove, it dug painfully into her palm. The pain cleared her head.

"I turned on the terrain scanner while we were crossing the field the first time," she said, "and I knew it was there."

A beat of silence followed Vorpa's quick explanation. She could hear her own heart thumping painfully loud in her ears. She gripped her thigh plate harder, but barely felt the bruise forming through the burning feeling rising in her chest.

"Genius," Mereel gasped and burst into laughter. It was so incongruous with what Vorpa was feeling it hurt. "Why didn't I think of that?" He asked aloud with mirth.

"You mean… you cheated?" Fi asked with innocent disbelief.

"Yeah," Vorpa admitted and ducked her head. The dark green hair that had escaped her braid cast flickering shadows across her face.

"Ah well, you admitted to it," Kom'rk said shrugging, "Mereel wouldn't have."

"Hey!" Mereel cried. "I take offense at that."

Kom'rk snorted dismissively and got up to scavenge the remains of dinner. Vorpa's heart slowed to a painful pounding in her chest as he walked away.

"And you were mad at me for crowding you out on the last stretch?" A'den said softly so only she could hear. Vorpa looked up at his openly confused and wounded expression and her stomach flipped uncomfortably. She couldn't do much more than stare gaping at him.

"That's not…" _that's not what I meant,_ she thought. _I didn't mean to cheat!_ "I…" _I'm sorry,_ she wanted to say but the words wouldn't move past her throat. "We could have crashed. You scared me, that's all." She bit her tongue and fought to maintain her expression.

"Hmm," he hummed thoughtfully at her answer and went back to his food still frowning. Vorpa scrambled for something more to say that would smooth the whole thing over—anything that wasn't the truth.

"I think she owes us extra for cheating," Fi grumbled.

"Well we haven't paid her yet, we could dock it out of—"

Vorpa spun around, momentarily forgetting A'den. "I'd never work for you again," she cut Mereel off and added with icy humor, "Just ask Wad'e."

"Is that what happened?"

"I still think we deserve something," Fi grumbled.

"You finished before her anyway," Mereel cried. "I'm the one who got covered in mud. I think she owes _me._ "

"Something extra, huh," Vorpa said slyly. She swallowed and thought, _can't hurt to try._ She slid across the bench to A'den's side. He looked up from his plate with a fork of vegetables in his hand. Before he could pull away, she caught his chin between her thumb and knuckle, and swooped in to press her lips to his. A'den's fork clattered as it slipped from his slackened grip and fell onto his plate. She felt his jaw tighten then slacken in surprise then shock. His lips parted unintentionally against hers. She tasted his breath, the spices and grease of their dinner mixed with something new. A'den only had a moment to blink before the kiss was over.

"Even?" She asked softly, still sitting close enough to press her leg to his on the bench and her hand still on his chin. His lightning fast mind was running through every moment since he had walked into her hanger, trying to understand what he was feeling at that moment while at the same time every perfectly preserved second of the kiss was playing on repeat. He swallowed and licked his lips unconsciously. He registered the new taste on his tongue, filing it away in his memory. It was fresh and slightly sweet. _She tastes… green._ _How can a taste be green?_ He wondered. It all ran through his head in the second before Corr whooped loudly from the other side of the fire.

" _Kandosii, ner vod!"_ The clone in orange clapped and cheered. Besany was smiling from behind her husband while he had a distinct expression of unease.

"Hey, Vorpa," Mereel leaned toward her. "Shouldn't we all get a kiss? I mean you really cheated all of us."

Vorpa turned away from A'den to smile sweetly at Mereel and say, "I don't like the taste of mud."

Fi laughed heartily and ducked under Mereel's halfhearted swipe at his head.

"Finally a woman who can resist you," Fi joked. Mereel clapped a hand to his chest and mimed a distraught expression sarcastically.

"I think he's swooning," Kom'rk joked, coming back with a miraculously full plate. Vorpa marveled that the dishes weren't sparkling after being picked over so thoroughly. She relaxed a little now that the topic of conversation was moving on from her cheating and turned back to A'den with a heavy feeling in her churning stomach. He met her gaze without anger or hurt in his eyes, only perplexed confusion.

"Even," he said, though he still wasn't smiling. Vorpa pressed her lips tightly together and nodded. He scratched the back of his head and she picked at a chip of pealing paint on her thigh plate.

"I did crowd you out at the end."

"It was a gutsy move."

"Usually I leave that kind of thing to Mereel," he said.

"I'd guess that's why he's winning."

"You'd be right," he said nodding. "We've all had lots of practice outrunning droids, though they're usually shoot at us."

"Well… I guess now I know why you have so many 'someone tried to kill me' stories."

"I do have some great ones," he said, his eyes lighting up and his cheeks tightening with a hint of his smile. He seemed as relieved as she was to move on to a new subject. "Want to hear one?" He asked her.

"Shoot," she offered, leaning back to listen. He launched into his story with animation and vivid detail. To her surprise she found herself relaxing and honestly enjoying the company. A'den was a good storyteller, and he had definitely seen a lot. She spent most of the rest of the night listening to his stories, some his own experiences and some of his brothers'.

It was an unusual evening for Vorpa. It had been a long time since she worked with any sizable group. Most of her work was transporting 'delicate' cargo. Even when she did work as transport for Mando mercenaries or bounty hunters, she was just the pilot, not really a member of the team. It was rare that she worked with the same team more than a few times anyway. It didn't give her long enough to get comfortable, and that, she often thought, was for the better.

But A'den's family was an easy group to slip into. They all loved fun as much as he did—she suspected even Ordo-the-stiff had a fun side—and they lived in the moment. Impending worries hung imminently over the little camp. Vorpa could infer it from the omission, and she realized the entire outing wasn't just put on for her benefit or to keep her from tracking Kal back to their home. They would have been there with or without her. They were escaping from whatever tragedy brought Kal so desperately to Mandalore. The night was a coveted happy moment for everyone. They could pretend for the evening that a peaceful home awaited them, and Vorpa could pretend something more than a cold cot on the floor of her office awaited her. She was in no hurry for the night to end.

Eventually every dish was cleared and not a scrap of food was left in the little camp. Vorpa marveled that it fit in just a dozen stomachs. Besany had made an inordinate amount of food. Still, the dishes were empty when Jilka and Corr collected them. Slowly the group broke up. Ordo took Besany into their tent before the first stars came out. Kom'rk disappeared silently into the lengthening shadows to grab a few moments of solitude. Prudii dozed off where he sat in his armor and helmet. His soft snoring echoed from the unsealed headgear. Fi and Parja set up bright lights by the speeder bikes. She sat eating the dinner Fi had saved for her and directed him in putting the disassembled machine back together.

When the fire was just glowing coals Vorpa couldn't put off leaving any longer. A'den walked her back across the damp field to _Gra'tua._

"Your money," he said when they reached the ramp and pulled out a jingling bag. "It's all there."

"I trust that it is," she said, judging the weight in her hand.

"But you'll count it anyway," he said and she could see his teeth flash in the dim moonlight.

"Naturally," she agreed. " _Ret'urcye mhi,_ A'den." _We'll meet again (Goodbye)._ She turned to go, but A'den caught her arm. She couldn't help but flinch away from his restraining touch. She peered into the darkness at his face.

"I still don't understand why you did it."

"What?"

"Cheated."

"Maybe I just wanted to impress someone," she deflected noncommittally.

"Then why slow down. After Mereel spun out, you slowed down. What were you waiting for? You could have won."

"There's more than one way to win," she parroted his own words back to him. He let her pull her wrist lightly out of his grip. She retreated up the ramp into the sanctuary of her ship. She sat in the cockpit counting her pay and watched A'den's broad figure cross the field back to the warm glow coming from the camp.

 _I shouldn't have done that,_ she thought to herself with a frown. _I enjoyed it too much. I should have told him it meant nothing. It's given him the wrong idea._ But she could remember what his breath tasted like, and her wrist was cold where he'd held her gauntlet like he'd grabbed her bare skin. She didn't want him to think she wasn't interested or she was toying with him. That wasn't the truth either. She enjoyed his company and his easy smiles. Now that he was gone, she missed him.

 _This is ridiculous!_ Vorpa scolded, shaking herself out of the foolish mood. _I'm not a child anymore! I'm too old for this kind of behavior. It's too risky. Eventually I'll run out of places to hide if I keep screwing up. From now on, it's_ just _business. It's always been just business._ She scooped her earnings into the bag and attached it to her belt. She kicked _Gra'tua_ to life and raised the landing gear. Vorpa flew away from the camp and forced herself not to look back.

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(long) Author's Note: I just love writing the Kyrimorut stuff. There wasn't enough brotherly Null action in KT's books. I really wanted to know what the six were like when they were all together (of course Jaing wasn't in this chapter—he was otherwise occupied). That, and I just need to write happy stuff because there's too much angst in the other story lines… soooo much angst.

So a little lesson in Mando'a. From last chapter: " _Ner koor cuyi ner mircin"_ is a saying I made up. Literally it translates to, "My contract/promise is my cage." So it roughly means, "I am bound by my word." You'd think a culture of mercenaries and bounty hunters they would need a phrase like that. Kal seems under the impression there is some kind of honor among Mandos (excluding Death Watch of course).

I wasn't sure about including the _Gett'ika_ joke. In Mando'a you add "'ika" to the end of words or after the first syllable of a name to make the diminutive. Like "ette" in french or "ito" in Spanish or "y" in engilsh… you get the picture. Red, _Ge'tal,_ minus the second syllable plus "'ika" is roughly equivalent to calling someone "Little Red", _Ge'ika. Gett'ika_ (with real emphasis on the _tt_ sound) comes from _Gett'se_ , which means 'nuts'.

Bud, dum, chhssss!... Yeah it's not funny when you explain it. (This all just firmly cements my geekdom.)

What Prudii says to start the race is pretty self-explanatory. " _Tsikala_! _Ke serim! Jii!"_ translates to "Ready! Take Aim! Now!" I didn't bother finding a way to say "get set" instead of "take aim" because these are Mandos, they wouldn't bother having another phrase.

Another little note about what Prudii calls Vorpa. I translated it as "New girl" but really it means "new person" because there are no genders in Mando'a. The same phrase applies to men and women. I do love that about their language. I don't even know if there are any real (earth) languages that are gender neutral. We've got so much gender bias built into our language it's kind of staggering once you start to notice it. It's inevitable I guess after a couple thousand years of patriarchy and I don't see it changing any time soon.

As for what Vorpa called Besany, albeit only in her mind: _laanduryc_ comes from the Mando word _laandur_ meaning weak or frail. In a militaristic society it's not the most flattering of descriptions and in some cases down right insulting. Of course Vorpa doesn't know _osik_ about Besany.

So I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Leave me a review or a pm if you can. If there's something you want to see more of (or less of) I'd appreciate knowing. If you have any questions about the Kyrimorut Aliit I'll try to work the answers into the following chapters or author's notes. What do you think of Vorpa? Love her, hate her…. I'm always open to feedback.

Hopefully I'll be back to the actual story by next week. –Ember


	15. Chapter 14

Author's Note: Sorry about my tardiness. Chapter 12 put me way behind! I'm not used to this writing week by week thing. It's difficult. (Partly because I write fucking long chapters.) I've really got to have a plan with where I'm going 'cause I can't just go back and work in something I just thought of because I've published those chapters already.

How do you guys do it? No seriously. How? Would you rather shorter chapters? Or longer ones less often? –Em

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 **Chapter 14: A Friend's Friend**

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Rex looked up and down the empty hallway in his HUD without turning his head, a skill mongrel stormtroopers never managed to learn. He turned and slipped into a storage closet in a matter of seconds, squeezing in between the deactivated cleaning droids. He slipped a few compact tools from his belt and jimmied the nearest droid's casing open. The larger cleaning droids were mostly empty space inside. It left plenty of room for Rex to stuff his helmet. Inside the insulated casing that protected the droid's circuitry it wouldn't receive or transmit any signals. He pulled out his unregistered comm and opened the frequency Conall Nasis had given him.

"Easy money," the former cop answered promptly with a falsely cheery attitude. "I've been waiting for you to call. Not getting cold feet, shinny boy?"

"Nasis," Rex said curtly, cutting off the banter. "I've got the location. Transmitting the coordinates now." He punched in the location he and his squad were being deployed to.

"I got them. How fast do you need us?"

"They won't move the doctor until we've moved the laboratory. Get your men in place by 1200 hours and I'll give you the signal when she comes into the open."

"We're doing this in broad daylight?" Nasis sounded either uneasy or impressed at Rex's boldness.

"Looks like it," Rex replied. _We don't have much choice,_ he thought. _The longer we wait to do it the greater the chance we'll be found out or Orsa will be moved to a different part of the city, or the planet, or the Core. No, we have to do it_ now.

"Fun."

Rex could almost hear Nasis shrug on the other end of the line. He was caught off guard by how much he missed the brotherly banter that used to be commonplace in the 501st.

"What's the difference between day and night in the under-city anyway?" He asked Nasis.

"The noise level, less speeder traffic at night," the cop responded, deadpan.

"Humf," Rex shook his head and allowed himself to really smile. The expression felt unfamiliar and it fell quickly as he returned to reality.

"Be ready for the signal," Rex said seriously

"We will be, don't worry about us. You don't have to pay me much to shoot at the stormies."

"I'm not paying you at all."

"All the more proof. I'll see you out there."

 _"_ _K'oyacyi."_

"I heard the other clones saying that. What does it mean?"

Rex hesitated, not knowing exactly how to explain the saying. It had been his list word to so many of his men and summed up everything he wanted to say to them before battle; "good luck", "happy hunting", "make them pay", "stay strong", "you'll be remembered" and "come back in one piece" all at once.

"It… means _don't die_." He said finally.

"Good words of parting," Nasis said solemnly. "To you as well, Rex." The line cut off. Rex leaned back against the door of the supply closet and took a deep breath. Today was the day he was going to get answers… or more likely die trying.

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Sayne winced with every limping step as he struggled to keep up with Ahsoka. His dragging foot made scrapping sounds in the dusty streets of the decrepit spaceport she had brought him to. He didn't know what planet he was on or if they were still in Jutta space. Ahsoka turned sharply at a dark doorway and came to a stop. She peered into the darkness at a faint mark on the door. It showed the outline of a half crescent that was narrower at one end and had a squiggly line trailing from the other.

"This is it," Ahsoka said softly, her voice barely carrying over the wind that whistled between the bleakly rectangular houses. She input a code and the door slid open. She led Sayne into the cool darkness of the building. It was only slightly warmer than the outdoor streets for the lack of wind. He could still hear it whistling against the windows like a murmuring background. Ahsoka shifted around behind him and a faint clack of a switch turned on the flickering dingy lights in the room. It looked like it might once have been a house but it was now covered in a thick layer of dust and clearly abandoned. Sayne quickly spotted the table and chairs to the left of the doorway and made a beeline for the nearest seat. He sank gratefully into it with a heavy sigh that turned into a cough as dust clogged his throat.

"Are you alright?" Ahsoka asked gently.

Sayne nodded and cleared his throat determinedly. "I'm fine."

One corner of her mouth and one brow lined with her white facial markings rose in a dubious expression.

"I can do this… I have to do this," He said. She came to join him at the table and pulled a canteen from the folds of her long cloak. She offered it to him and he accepted gratefully. To his surprise it was sweet juice instead of water. He took a few mouthfuls and then a few more when she refused to take the canteen back.

 _She brought it for me,_ he realized when he brought it down from his lips. She was a carnivore; fruit juice had few benefits for her and probably didn't taste very good. Juice would keep his blood sugar up and help him regain a little of the weight he'd lost in captivity.

"Thank you," he said, handing the empty container back to her. She smiled a little sadly at him. She could see he was still exhausted from his ordeal and not nearly healed enough to be moving around, much less chasing criminals.

"You really care about her," Ahsoka said softly. She was trying not to think about what her own life would look like now if she hadn't escaped from Shili alone, if someone had been with her.

"She's all I have," Sayne responded, looking down at his hands on the dusty table.

"You gave up a lot to save her: your home, your work, your family."

"Maybe. My wife and I never had children and my own parents passed away before she did. When I made the choice to save Katooni, I couldn't think of anything that I wanted enough to make me stand by and watch murder."

"And now?"

"I… I did have other reasons for wanting to return to Riash. My home-world didn't accept the Empire's control easily. There was resistance… and retaliation."

Ahsoka frowned. She could picture that all to clearly. She had been to many formerly prosperous places that were now crippled by the Empire's control on taxation, shipping, or access. They had blockaded many worlds, starving them into submission. Other systems were saddled with such heavy taxes that the businesses that used to support them moved elsewhere. Riash was just one small planet in the Mid Rim with little bargaining power and no notable value.

"I thought if Katooni and I went back that…"

"That you could help Riash in some way," she finished for him. Sayne glanced up with shining grey eyes that flashed with guilt.

"Yes," he whispered. "And now… she's…"

Ahsoka reached out to put a hand on Sayne's arm and felt it shaking. She cursed at herself for letting him off the ship. He was in too fragile a state for this kind of stress.

"You did what you thought was right," she assured him. "Riash is no more dangerous than most other places. You at least have an idea of what you were going into. That's reason enough to return there."

"That's what I told myself," Sayne said, nodding lethargically. "But I know it would have been safer farther into the rim, somewhere like Jakku or Selucamai, where we could hide in the countryside…"

Ahsoka swallowed down her own frustrations and searched for something to say that would make the situation better. But there was nothing to say. Telling him outsiders stand out more in small communities or that supporting himself and a young girl alone would be grueling. Nothing she said would change the way Sayne felt, just as nothing she said to her Master would convince him that his son's fate was not his father's fault.

A shift in the Force alerted Ahsoka to the arrival of her contact. She stood up and moved between Sayne and the doorway, one hand on the blaster at her right hip and the other on her concealed shoto.

"What is it?" Sayne asked.

The door hissed as it opened and a breeze of cold air stirred dust across the floor. A figure blocked the doorway. A visor bright with reflected light covered its eyes.

"Jeu," Ahsoka said and dropped her hand from her weapon. The figure stepped quickly inside and shut the door.

"Ahsoka," Jeu said with a curt nod. Jeu was a small humanoid female dressed in a nondescript drab poncho. The thick visor that obscured the top half of her face also covered her ears and flashed with small lights on either side.

"This is Sayne," Ahsoka motioned to him and then stepped aside to introduce Jeu. "This is the Slicer who might be able to help us."

"I'll do what I can," Jeu said. It was impossible to see who she was looking at or talking to behind the visor. Jeu moved to the center of the room and pushed back a heavy couch gray with dust to reveal a hatch set in the floor. She pulled it open and descended down a flight of steep steps. Ahsoka followed, glancing over her shoulder to make sure Sayne didn't stumble on his bad ankle on the way down and ducking so her montrals didn't hit the ceiling.

They came out in a warm basement room. The lights turned on automatically revealing a stark contrast to the domestic setting above. The long narrow room was lined with data processors and hollo net links. Jeu took the large seat in the center of the jumbled technical array and started flicking switches. The clicking drives whirred to life.

"You said you were tracking someone," Jeu said without looking back at her clients. Ahsoka pulled up a box for Sayne to sit on and he took it gratefully. "A friend or an enemy?"

"Both," Ahsoka answered. "We're tracking an enemy who's taken a friend of ours."

"I see. What do we have to work with?"

"We have his name, where he may be headed, the ship he chartered, and an old comm frequency code. We're not sure if it's still connected."

"Shoot."

"Djela Kur, Ilothorian from Kumaai on Sellet. He was on his way to Dara-9 to meet a ship, a Monarch Class freighter called the _Cornucopia._ We believe his final destination is the ITA outpost on Catharia. He'll appear to be traveling alone; he's transporting our friend in carbonite. To complicate matters, a gangster Bedjiim has put a bounty on his head. We aren't the only ones looking."

"If he was on Dara-9 than I should be able to find him and the ship with enough time."

"We don't have time," Sayne said, his voice betraying his panic. "That _sleemo_ could be with the ITA right now!"

"I can check that," Jeu said, unbothered by his distress. She began opening screens and punching keys on different machines rapidly. Sayne could see her lips moving but whatever she was saying under her breath was too soft for him to hear. He clenched his hands on his knees and tried to relax. His ankle had gone from aching to throbbing after the awkward staircase. He was caught between thinking of the pain and worrying about Katooni when all his body wanted was to lie down and sleep for days.

Ahsoka put a hand softly on his shoulder. When he looked up she was still watching the Slicer but her expression was assured.

 _She is strong for someone so young,_ he thought. _What horrors did she have to survive to become this way?_

"The ITA haven't logged any sightings of the _Cornucopia,_ but they will if they see it. The ship was flagged for an unauthorized departure from Imperial City eight months ago."

Sayne groaned and his head spun. _How much worse can this get?_ He wondered. Not only was Katooni on her way to the Empire, but the Empire was already looking for the ship she was on.

"That might actually work to our advantage," Ahsoka said thoughtfully with on hand on her small pointed chin. "If they're already on the watch for the ship it should be logged automatically as soon as they locate its transponder."

"Yes," Jeu confirmed.

"Can you set up a monitoring program to tell us if the Empire does find it?"

"It will take a little while, but I can," Jeu answered.

"So we just wait for the worst to happen?" Sayne asked the Jedi.

"No," Ahsoka said frowning, "but we have to plan for the worst case. If we know where she is we may be able to intercept her before the ITA can turn her over to the Imperial Army. It will attract heat I would rather avoid, but I'll take that over abandoning her to the Empire." Ahsoka sighed and said sadly, "it's about all we have to go on right now."

"You said you had a comm frequency." Jeu turned around from her workstation.

"Yes," Sayne nodded. "It was how I contacted him when I got to Kumaai."

"Have you tried using it?"

"No," Ahsoka shook her head. "If it had fallen into Empire hands that could be traced back to our location."

"Humf," Jeu snorted. "ITA can't trace me," she said assuredly and spun back around to her equipment. "Give me your comm."

Ahsoka turned to Sayne. He eyed the Slicer's back suspiciously before handing over the comm link. Jeu pulled a wire from a machine over her head and plugged it in. She dragged another wire out and connected it to a separate comm that she handed back to Sayne.

"If your Illothorian answers I can get you a location right now, unless he's hired someone better than me to cover his tracks."

"And if he has?" Sayne asked.

"Then I start investigating my rival's clientele. There aren't many good slicers in this part of the galaxy, which narrows it down. Anyone worth their salt goes elsewhere."

Sayne frowned thinking, _what does that make you?_ Jeu acted competent, but he knew that didn't always equate to skill or success.

"Make the call," Ahsoka said calmly. "Even if they can back trace it, this location is disposable." Jeu jerked her head toward Ahsoka.

"My sponsor would reimburse you."

"I would expect nothing less," Jeu replied.

Sayne looked down at the commlink in his hand. _So it comes down to this?_ He thought. _Katooni's fate is decided by this call. If Djela picks up…_ Sayne took a deep breath and pressed the dial key.

.

Ny started when the sound went off in her pocket. It jolted her out of the state of listless lumbering she had fallen into as she followed the Bounty Hunter across the ubiquitously green landscape of the nameless Nemoidian planet. Her feet had started aching hours ago, her legs had been burning for the last four miles and she could feel the blisters her boots were rubbing break open in flares of pain. The Bounty Hunter hadn't looked back, stopped, or slowed ever since they started the long trek back to the nearest civilization. Ny was sure if she slowed, she would be left behind without a thought. The Bounty Hunter wasn't much in the way of company, but Ny had lost her blaster in the fall and she didn't want to be alone and unarmed in a strange wilderness. If nothing else she might be able to salvage weapons from the Bounty Hunter's body… if she survived that long.

The unexpected beeping sound came from Ny's pocket, breaking the rhythmic panting of their heavy breathing.

The Bounty Hunter stopped and slowly turned around to glare at Ny.

"What," the tall thin woman hissed, her ice-pale eyes narrowed to slits, "was that?"

Ny quickly dug into the pocket of her flight suit. Her hand found something small and metal. She brought out the flashing and beeping object to stare at it dumbly. It was a comm link. It couldn't be her own because hers was plugged into the _Cornucopia's_ console.

"Djela's comm link," Ny gasped. "I… I put it in my pocket!"

"Why didn't you mention that earlier?" Ventress screamed at her and charged back toward the old woman. Ny stumbled over her own feet trying to back away and fell onto the mossy ground.

"I didn't remember, I swear, I didn't remember I had it!" Ny cried.

"Answer it!"

"What?"

"Answer it! Find out who it is! If they know where Djela is, that's where we're going next."

Ny's fingers fumbled to bring the comm link up to her face. She paused for a moment to catch her breath before opening the channel. The speaker crackled then fell to static silence.

"H-hello?" Ny answered.

"Hello?" A deep male voice responded over the comm, filled with stunned confusion. "Who is this?"

"I—I'm… My name is Nyreen Vollen. Who is—"

"What are you doing with this comm? How did you get it?"

"I…" Ny looked up helplessly at the Bounty Hunter who just glared back down at her. "It… it's not mine."

"I know. It belongs to Djela Kur. Where is he?"

"I… I don't know. I don't even know where I am. He's gone… he… he stole my ship." _That's one way of putting it,_ Ny thought to herself. It seemed an overly simplistic way to describe the mad scramble for the controls of the _Cornucopia_ as it rocketed toward the surface, nearly being blown out of the sky by a Bounty Hunter, then dropped into empty space a couple hundred feet up, and surviving without a jet pack or even a parachute.

" _Your_ ship?"

"Yes," Ny got indignant now. " _My_ ship! He stole _my_ ship and ran off. Who the hell is this?"

There was a scuffle on the other end of the line and a new voice answered.

"It would seem we have a common enemy," a woman answered in an even, serious voice. The Bounty Hunter straightened up as the woman on the other end of the comm continued. "Djela is no friend of ours, but we need to find him. Perhaps we can be of use to each other."

"How?" Ny asked.

"I assume you need transport."

Ny looked up at the Bounty Hunter who was glaring down at the little machine.

"We could use a ride," the pale woman drawled. "Pick us up and we can discuss terms. You don't get my help for free."

There was a moment of pregnant silence on the other end of the comm. For a moment Ny was terrified they would refuse, but then realized she might be sorry if they accepted.

"Don't go anywhere," the woman on the comm responded and the call promptly cut off.

.

Vorpa woke up the morning after the race to an unfamiliar sound. Her eyes snapped open and she grasped around the underside of her cot for the hidden knife there. Adrenaline shooting through her veins, she was scanning her room for intruders before she fully registered what the noise was. It sounded like a hydro-spanner on a stubborn piece of machinery. It was echoing up from inside her hanger.

Vorpa threw off her covers and grabbed her blaster from its holster where she'd dropped her gun-belt on the floor the night before. She padded with silent bare feet to the door. Crouching beside it she listened for footsteps on the rickety stairs up to her combined office and living quarters. There was just the hysdrospanner sporadically whirring away. Vorpa took a deep breath and fought against her urge to rush out firing. She turned the knob slowly and jumped up into the door quickly. She advanced to the railing of the causeway to overlook the hanger, her blaster raised and her knife held against her forearm, half hidden behind her back—ready to give an unobservant enemy a nasty surprise.

 _"_ Morning," a familiar jovial voice called up to her.

" _Shab!"_ Vorpa hissed and dropped her blaster. She recognized the warm amber color of the armor and the man's broad grin. "A'den. What the _kark_ are you doing in my hanger at…"

"1100 hours," he supplied the time.

"Is it that late?" She wondered vaguely, all the adrenaline rushing out of her body and leaving her feeling as bone weary as the moment she'd crawled between the covers last night. She leaned against the railing and rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand holding the blaster.

"Yep," A'den answered her rhetorical question sounding chipper enough to annoy her.

"Ugh... What are you doing here?"

"Fixing your repulsor pallet," he stated the obvious with his easy smile. "Your lock is _osik_ , by the way."

"You break it you buy it," Vorpa said, looking over at the panel by the hanger's side door. The status lights were all out like the power had been cut. _No wonder I didn't have any warning,_ she thought angrily.

"I'll buy you a better one," A'den said without hesitation or even a glance up from his task. He had half the contraption disassembled already and he seemed happy enough. _Annoyingly happy,_ she thought. _Why is he here? What does he want? Does he suspect something? Is he spying on me? Could he really like me that much? I've only known him a few days. I have spent those few days in close quarters with him though…_

"I can't deal with this right now," Vorpa muttered. "I need a shower… and food… and caf…."

"I brought caf," A'den apparently had perfect hearing, "and Besany sent some of her cakes. They're pretty good even if they are _aruetyc._ " _Well I'm not eating that,_ Vorpa thought with a stab of anger. _A'den's Stiff-Brother must pamper his_ laanduryc _wife if she has time to make cakes. I at least need to shower if I'm gonna survive this morning._

"Don't touch anything else," Vorpa said to A'den before she went back into her office, pointing at him with the tip of her knife, "and don't even go near my ship."

"Vorpa," A'den called, stopping her mid-turn. She looked down at his earnestly serious expression. Osik, _I said too much! I hurt him again._

"You look good in white," he said, catching her off-guard. Immediately her cheeks felt hot and without thought she looked down at the long white tunic she usually wore under her armor.

"I should shoot you for trespassing," she growled out. _Glad I was too lazy to take everything off last night,_ she thought gratefully. She imagined what his face might have looked like if she had come out with nothing but the blaster and knife. It was a surprisingly pleasing fantasy.

"You'd have a mess to clean up," he said logically, "a lock that isn't worth the circuitry, and your repulsor pallet would still be broken. Better to wait until I finish this. Then at least you get something out of it—besides the caf."

" _Mir'sheb!" Smartass,_ she said turning away to hide her smile. She heard his deep chuckles echoing in the hanger behind her before the door closed. It was looking like it would be another interesting day.

.

It wasn't hard to get assigned extra duties. Rex only had to foul up one thing and his CO took the opportunity to single the lone Clone out. Rex would have been insulted if he hadn't become numb to the abuses. It didn't mater what this mongrel though of him. The _etyc'tal aruetii_ was a means to an end. Rex had never really understood the term _aruetii_ until joined this squad. He'd worked with, befriended, and cared for many people who Mandalorians would call _aruetii,_ soulless beings that weren't really alive. It went beyond enemy or traitor. The word referred to a thing that was little better than an animal and generally more troublesome. These stormtroopers, his new comrades, were _aruetii_.

Rex focused on that thought all through the hard day of labor moving Dr. Orsa's lab. It kept him from focusing on the churning sensation in his stomach, the pre battle nerves that he hadn't felt in a long time. It was worse because he was armed with only his hold out blaster tucked into his boot. He'd have to steal a better weapon when the time came. Rex tensed and stretched his back over the course of the day, testing the limits of his movement. It was agony, but he was pleased to find he had nearly full range of movement.

He was almost glad when Sergeant Toner tapped his buddy's shoulder and said, deliberately loud enough for Rex to hear, "leave the rest of them. Vat-boy can finish up."

 _Finally,_ Rex thought with a tremor of anxious excitement. When the sounds of his squad marching back to the local dispatch hub faded into the wiz and churn of speeder traffic, Rex slipped into the moving truck where he had hidden the last time and ducked behind the already loaded boxes. He turned up the microphones on his helmet to listen for anyone approaching.

It was only then, crouching in his hiding place with his comm in one hand and his blaster in the other that Rex realized how deep he'd gotten himself. This was more than leaking information; it was an outright assault. This was shooting at his comrades, men wearing the same uniform he was. It was what he swore never to do again after Umbara. It wasn't something that could not be overlooked or brushed aside, and Rex had no one to hide behind. If the plan to capture Orsa failed he would be killed—he would be back on that cold metal table from his dream. The moment he sent the signal to Fox and Nasis he was committed. There was no going back after that.

 _What would I be going back to?_ Rex wondered. _More days of_ this? Every day of that future looked as grim and gray as the past six months had been. That time blurred together in Rex's memory into a single monotonous scene of drudgery. What time he wasn't filling his mind with meaningless work, he had spent dulling it with drugs and drink. It could have been a month or years and it would feel the same. That was all that waited for him if he backed out now: manual labor surrounded by _aruetiise,_ weathering their insults and abuses _,_ cut off from the rest of the world, constantly being watched, living in fear of that white room and the cold hard table. He would never know why he had changed the day Order 66 was given. That nagging sense of searching that he had been drowning in alcohol and anesthetics would never go away until his artificially short life took his strength and finally his mind. Or he followed Coric and cut his own misery short. _No brother should go out that way,_ he thought bitterly.

 _No brother should_ have _to go out that way or be gunned down by his own kind, his own family. If I walk away, what did Fives die for? He died trying to tell me something. I thought Coric's death meant something because I could save Etain and Luke. But if I do nothing they will be found, one way or another. Then what did Coric die for? And Walli… If I walk away, is that life worth Walli's sacrifice?_

 _No,_ Rex thought, _I can't go back to living like that. That isn't living; it's fear. I turned tail at danger when I refused the cybernetic surgery and my chance at returning to the 501st. That was where things went wrong. I won't make that mistake again. I won't fail my brothers again, Fives, Coric, Walli, and so many others… I'm not dead yet so I have to keep going, keep fighting. Luke, Etain, Darman, and his brothers—our brothers—they still need me to fight, to protect them._

Rex took a deep breath and the jittery churning in his stomach settled into the heavy feeling of focus that he was accustomed to taking into battle. He felt more like himself than he had since… since Order 66.

The sound of heavy boots jerked him out of thought.

.

Author's Note: And... cliff hanger. So yeah. The chapter got too long so I broke it up. I'm putting the finishing touches on that and trying to get a bit ahead so I'll have content to post in the following weeks. I hope you liked it. Drop me a review if you're so inclined. -Em


	16. Chapter 15 and 16

Author's Note: My lovely beta reader is having a hysterical breakdown about my chapter numbering (I exaggerate). So for her I am making some adjustments. This chapter is actually two chapters posted as one. Both chapters were supposed to be part of the previous chapter which was supposed to be chapter 14... but all of my chapters are spilling over into more chapters... so I'm adjusting my numbering system. Next chapter will be Chapter 17 (damn this is getting long). Sorry it's so late. -Em.

.

 **Chapter 15: An Enemy's Enemy**

.

The sound of heavy boots jerked Rex out of his thoughts. He turned his head and heard the pounding steps of familiar treads louder and all of a sudden near by.

 _Shab,_ he thought, _they came up on my deaf side._ He chanced a glance around the boxes piled in the truck. He saw the white shapes of stormtroopers moving into the speeder bay and a darker head of curly hair in their midst. It was unmistakably the group he was waiting for. Rex looked down at the commlink in his hand. He accepted that his next actions might bring him right back into his nightmares but at least they took him out of the nightmare he was living. Rex dialed the signal.

His comm was automatically routed through his helmet and chatter filled his good ear.

 _"_ _I was starting to think I got all dressed up for nothing,"_ Nasis quipped over the mercenaries' comms. _"It's open season, boys!"_

Rex didn't have long to wait before the first shots pinged like small firecrackers echoing in the cavernous bay. Nasis's men were right on schedule. A woman screamed and the stormtroopers started shouting.

"Snipers!"

"Cover!"

"Get the Doctor out of here!"

"Move!"

Over the pounding sound of heavy boots Rex heard one pained and terrified scream and a body falling with the familiar sound of plastoid clattering onto duracrete. Return shots started belatedly echoing out of the speeder bay. The discharging blasters made whomping noises that reverberated in the space and covered the pinging contacts of Nasis' shots.

Rex paused just long enough for chaos to break out but not long enough for order or a stalemate to be reached. He drew his hold out blaster and vaulted out of the back of the truck, landing on the duracrete with a painful impact that jarred all the way up his back. Staunchly, he ignored it.

Bending low behind the remaining crates scattered across the speeder bay he slunk toward the protection detail and the slim cowering figure of the Doctor, his target. Shots of hot red plasma lit up the speeder bay opening and rained down on the parked craft within firing range.

The mongrel troopers were scattered and panicking. Half of them were separated from their charge behind different areas of cover, leaving her with only two men. Rex paused to still his ragged breathing at the edge of his own cover before dashing into the open. He dodged left then randomly right, not keeping steady pace, which was easier than he thought when one of his legs was constantly threatening to fail him at any moment. A shot threw up a spray of shattered duracrete by his ankle and another charred the maintenance card the moment before he ducked behind it for cover. Rex breathed a heavy sigh of momentary relief and heard his heart pounding loudly in both his ears.

He didn't have time to savor his survival. The mongrel troopers were just feet away from him, and his target was huddled between them. They were yelling to each other over external speakers like _di'kute,_ forgetting completely in their panic that they had internal comms.

"We're pinned down!" One of them yelled at the other.

"Call for backup!" the other replied in a voice that shook.

"We'll be dead by then!" Rex called, his parade voice carrying easily to both men. They sat up straighter at his authoritative tone and turned in his direction. "We have to get the Doctor out of here!"

"We won't make it ten feet!" The first trooper argued. Rex rolled his eyes behind his helmet.

 _And I thought Jaina's togruta recruits were bad,_ he thought ruefully but the next second shots pinged off their cover and the thought fled his mind.

"It's ten feet or ten minutes, boys," he answered and had to bite back the word 'troopers'; it wasn't what a mongrel would say. "You," he pointed at the first one. "When we move, open fire and over us."

"You," Rex pointed at the second trooper on the Doctor's far side, "Stick close to the Doctor, stay low, and move fast. The west access ramp is twenty paces back. That's our escape route." Rex pointed toward the hallway where the rest of his squad had left the speeder bay hours before. The two troopers looked at the far off doorway and then back at Rex. While their heads were turned Rex tapped back into the mercenary comms in his helmet.

"Nasis," He called.

 _"_ _Please, we're committing felonies together, call me Conall."_

"I'm with the target."

 _"_ _Roger, bucket-boy,"_ Nasis said, a chuckle in his voice and then a hard grunt of exhale forced out by a rifle's recoil. _"Hear that, you_ bug-slut krettle," he said to his own people _, "don't shoot the white-jobs with the Doctor. One of them is our meal ticket. Shoot him and none of us get paid."_

"Ready," Rex said to the stormtroopers beside him, his voice clearly not questioning but ordering. "On my mark. Three, two,…" He reached past the trooper beside him and wrapped his good hand around the Doctor's trembling arm and hauled her to her feet at the same time the trooper behind him spun and raised his DeeCee. The stormtrooper hesitated to pull the trigger, looking for a target he was never going to see. His buddy was only slightly more competent and jumped up a moment behind Rex. He helped to push the Doctor to her feet.

A hot whizz, hiss, splat sound behind them made the stormtrooper turn in time to see his buddy slump onto the duracrete with a smoking, blackened hole in his bucket.

"Jan!" The stormtrooper cried.

 _"_ _Watch it!"_ Nasis called over the mercenary comms.

"Leave him!" Rex snapped harshly at the mongrel and dragged the doctor and the stormtrooper clinging to her other arm with him toward the west access ramp. The terrifying moments running across the empty space of the speeder bay seemed endless. Rex's feet could never move fast enough. Each of the Doctor's stumbling steps sent his heart racing faster with the mounting adrenaline rush. Despite knowing that the shooters shouldn't be targeting him he still felt a euphoric rush of success when he ducked behind the corner of the hallway wall into cover again. The Doctor stumbled and pressed herself to the wall, gasping for breath and trembling to the ends of her frizzy dark curls. The stormtrooper was in little better shape.

"Th-they shot him…" he cried.

"Move!" Rex urged and pushed them both down the hallway. He could feel how close he was to success. It was the most dangerous part of any mission, when the end was so close he could taste it. That was when things usually went terribly wrong.

"W-what about the oth—" The Doctor turned in his grasp to ask him something, clearly determining his authority in the situation. The mongrel turned to look at her and Rex took it as distraction enough. Discretely he pointed his hold out blaster backwards, behind his back, and fired. The shot echoed in the hallway and other two jumped.

"Cover!" Rex cried and dragged the Doctor to his side of the hallway, pressing himself to the wall. The stormtrooper dashed to the opposite side, looking backward down the hallway, his weapon still pointed at the ground.

 _Poor_ shabuir, Rex couldn't help his thoughts; _no one taught him how to survive._

"Where are they?" The stormtrooper cried in panic.

"Right here, _aruetii,"_ Rex said, raising his holdout blaster. At such a short range it shot right through the dome of the mongrel's helmet and killed him instantly. The Doctor screamed and tried to wrench out of Rex's grip but he closed his hand around her arm. The months of physical labor had built back up his strength and her trembling struggles did nothing to help her. He turned the blaster on her and she whimpered. Doctor Orsa looked at Rex with swimming watery blue eyes.

"Move," he growled and pushed her forward, down the ramp toward the platform at the end. She stumbled and struggled with whimpering gasps as he lead her forcefully away from the receding sounds of the shootout still raging behind them. Rex opened up his internal comms again.

"Fox, you had better be in position."

 _"_ _You're late as usual,"_ Fox replied as Rex spied an unmarked speeder truck, compliments of Dul, descending to the platform. As Rex and the Doctor reached it the back doors opened automatically with the hiss of hydraulics. Rex shoved the Doctor into the dark empty compartment and climbed in after her. The doors closed and shut out the bright streaming sunlight. Rex's HUD flickered to compensate for the light change while his eyes adjusted.

"Nasis," Rex said into the comms. The floor under his feet lurched sending the Doctor tumbling to her knees as Fox took off in a nearly vertical ascent off the platform, arching precisely out of the view of the spotty surveillance system.

 _"_ _For a second I thought the stormies had gotten the better of you,"_ Nasis replied.

"We have the target and we're making our get away. I suggest you don't hang around."

 _"_ _Roger that. It's been fun. We should do this again sometime."_

"Thanks for the help, Conall," Rex said, smirking inside his helmet.

 _"_ _Bet you miss working with professionals."_

"You have no idea," Rex replied and cut out of the channel to the sound of Conall's laughter.

He turned his attention down to the woman shivering on the floor of the dark compartment, staring up at him with terrified blue eyes—the wrong color blue.

.

Fox put the unmarked speeder truck down in a parking structure in the nearest Industrial District, just below a loud construction site where worker droids were busy all hours of the day and night. Inside the vehicle, the noise was distracting, which meant it would cover any noises that might come out. Fox shut off the engine and climbed around the seat into the back with Rex and the mysterious Doctor Orsa.

She looked exhausted, was Fox's first thought. Beneath the utilitarian white coat and gray skirt-suit she was thinner than her wide shoulders told him she should be. Her hair was one frizzy unkempt mass around her haggard face. There was nothing kind in her sharp blue eyes, just a cold, pitiless anger as she glared at each of them. Her lips trembled as she bit back a sob every few moments.

"Who are you?" Rex asked the first question. Her lip trembled harder and she didn't answer.

"What is OhAreEsAy?" Rex asked.

The Doctor tucked her head further toward her chest.

"What do you know about Trooper IT-9991 Private Walli?"

The Doctor sniffed.

"What do you know about Trooper IT-6779 Private Ven?"

The Doctor shrunk back into the corner and sniffed again.

"I know you have something to do with all of this. Who are you and what do you know about OhAreEsAy?"

She sniffed.

"Answer me," Rex snapped in the harsh command of a practiced drill sergeant and the Doctor jumped visibly, accidently biting her lip. I broke open and began to bleed. Fox bent down to put himself on her level.

"We just want answers," he told her calmly, a counterpoint to Rex's hostile demand.

"Answers," she hissed at him, spitting blood. A drop fell on her white coat. "You have no idea what you've done. I have _nothing_ to say to you." She turned away from him and the anger that bled through her fear fell from her face to reveal grief. Her hard cold eyes relaxed into broken apathy. She was in despair, a despair that he recognized. His own heart clenched at the memory of his own losses.

"Perhaps we can make a deal," Fox said. "We may be able to help each other."

Something in her face tensed at his words, a flicker of hope, even if she didn't look up. Fox reached up to his helmet and popped the seal then lifted it off his head. He motioned for Rex to do the same. He was almost surprised the man followed his lead.

The Doctor looked toward him warily. Wariness became curiosity when she saw his recognizable face and then shock when she looked up at Rex.

"You," she breathed the word, still staring up at Rex. "No… No, you shouldn't… why are you here? You were…. Why didn't you…?"

"You know him?" Fox asked but her eyes remained on Rex. The shock morphed back into anger, cold and bitter anger.

"No!" She hit the wall of the speeder with her fist. "No! You should have left!" She screamed at Rex who didn't so much as flinch. "You should be gone! Why did you stay? You'll mess everything up! You'll lead him right back to that child!"

"What child?" Fox demanded. "Luke? Do you mean Luke?"

The doctor's eyes snapped to Fox and this time a new recognition flashed in her eyes. She didn't just recognize his face, but the man. She didn't just know he was a clone; she knew exactly which clone he was. "You know me! How? How do you know about Luke? What is so _karking_ special about that damn kid?" Fox turned now to glare at Rex.

The former Captain's face was hard as stone as he looked down at the Doctor, the hand around his blaster shaking with the force of his grip.

 _Damn it!_ Fox thought. _I've got more important things to worry about than_ fracking _Luke "Palpatine"._

"Why do you want to protect that child?" Rex asked, deliberately being vague. The Doctor's face twisted in a sneer of wry humor.

"I don't. I don't give a _crap_ about that whelp. But the Emperor wants him so I want him as far from the _Emperor's_ grubby hands as possible because it will piss him off!" She hissed at Rex with venom in her words and bright red blood on her lips. Fox reeled at the unexpected turn of events.

"If you hate the Emperor so much why do you work for him?"

"Because he has my mother!" She snapped. "And he's going to kill her because of _you!_ "

"Why? Because of what?" Fox insisted.

"Because you stole me!" She screamed back at him, tears breaking from her eyes and rolling down her shallow cheeks, a drop of blood rolling parallel down her chin.

 _Could she be telling the truth?_ Fox wondered. Not that he wouldn't put it past the Emperor to blackmail a scientist into working for him, but her story seemed too convenient. Her anger looked real to him as did her despair. Fox glanced up at Rex who was watching the Doctor suspiciously, almost fearfully.

"You kept the Emperor from finding the child?" Rex asked her.

The Doctor looked away.

"What is OhAreEsAy?" Fox asked her and got a wry, caustic smile.

"You had better start talking or this is going to get very painful for you," Rex growled, his expression murderous. The Doctor ignored him and looked up at Fox.

"You said a deal," she whispered, "you wanted to make a deal?"

Fox eyed her suspiciously.

"You want answers; I know you do…" she took a deep breath before she continued. "I know because OhAreEsAy is me, I'm Orsa. I—I can give the answers you're looking for."

"Then answer me now!" Rex snapped. "Did you change the reports to prot—to hide the child?"

"Take me back and I'll answer all of your questions," she insisted. Her eyes shifted rapidly between her captors and she was shaking uncontrollably.

" _Reto'ran!_ That's not happing until you answer me!" Rex yelled.

"I-I won't say another word until you take me back," she replied softly, her voice horse and shaking.

" _Fraking—"_ Rex took a half step forward.

" _K'uur! Nu'gaa'tayli'la!"_ Fox snapped at him. _Shut up! You aren't helping!_

"She killed our brothers! She's the reason they shot Walli!"

"IT-9991 was already dead," Orsa cried defensively. "He was an adherent. They would have killed him anyway."

" _Hayc'osik!_ They shot him and he died choking on his own blood because of _you!"_

Fox stood up slowly and bore down on Rex with painstaking calm to spit out the words, " _You_ are the reason they're dead!"

For a moment it looked like Rex was going to deny it, but then his jaw became tense and rigid as his teeth ground together. Fox realized his hand had strayed to his blaster holster out of sheer habit.

"Fives."

Rex and Fox both turned to the Doctor at their feet. She glanced between the two of them quickly with red-rimmed, pleading eyes.

"What did you say?" Rex asked slowly, his voice shaking with the hard won restraint.

"ARC Trooper Fives, CT-5555. I can tell you who's responsible for his death." She was shaking from head to toe, her hands gripping her legs, her dark skin nearly pale at her fingertips from the pressure.

"I know who killed Fives!" Fox snapped at her.

"You know who pulled the trigger," she said, "but I can tell you why you were sent to execute him."

Fox gulped unconsciously before he could stop himself.

For a moment speeder truck was silent. Fox looked at Orsa and saw the dark warehouse and the puddle of light where his brother, a man with his face who had never known freedom, lay dying. Rex stared at Fox and the all too familiar glaze over his brother's eyes. He knew what ghosts looked like. The Doctor watched the two clones that held her fate in their hands, hoping against everything her rational mind knew they would take the deal.

"Please," she whispered, her voice breaking. "My mother is the only person I have left. I'm just trying to protect my family."

The ghosts before his eyes morphed and Fox saw red. Every durasteel bar of self-control he had constructed to hold in the violent nature bred into him broke in a tidal wave of rage. Before Rex could even register the change in his brother Fox lunged at the Doctor, dragged her off her feet with his large hands fisted in her collar. Her head cracked against the metal door and the siding whoomped like a massive bass drum. Even that wasn't loud enough to drown out the tortured roar that broke out of the normally composed man.

"Your family? What about _my_ family?" He yelled, inches from her face, his hands twisted in the fabric of her shirt, pressed tight against her throat. Her wide eyes dilated in panic and flecks of spit splattered her face. "They're only in danger because of _you!_ What about _them?"_

"FOX!" Rex grabbed for his brother, wrestling him away from the Doctor. It took every ounce of strength he had recovered in the past year. " _Udesii, vod! Ku'dar'mirci! Mhi liniba kayce."_ Rex finally managed to pry Fox's fingers off the Doctor's shirt and she collapsed, gasping, back onto the floor.

" _Udesii!"_ Rex snapped at Fox, and shoved his brother to the back of the truck.

Fox panted as he fought to catch his breath and slow his racing heart. He whipped his mouth with the back of his hand and forced himself to turn away from the Doctor and Rex, blocking them from his vision and his mind.

Rex stared, gaping at his brother's back. Never, not in all the years that he had known Fox—through live fire exercises, battle, arguments—never had he seen Fox lose it so completely.

"Take me back," the Doctor gasped for the breath to speak, "take me back, or I swear on my life I will never tell you a thing. I'll die before I say another word. No mater what you do to me, no mater how much pain you put me through, I'll never tell you what you want to know."

Rex looked down at the hard blue eyes of the Doctor then back at Fox's back. His brother had become deadly still again. Fox glanced over his shoulder and gave Rex a look that said everything:

 _Can we really give her back? Can we afford not to? Do either of us really have the stomach to torture a woman into answering our questions? Do we have the skills? Do we have the time?_

After just a moment the answers became blatantly apparent to both of them.

"How do we know you won't turn us over to the Emperor as traitors?" Rex asked her slowly.

"You don't," she answered. "But you're only alive right now because of me. I convinced the Emperor you could be controlled… if not trusted." Her eyes flickered momentarily to Fox. The look he shot back at her could have vaporized ice. "In my experience," she said to the floor, "control is more valuable than trust."

" _Shab,"_ Rex hissed and Fox just clenched and unclenched his fists in frustration. He started when Rex pushed past him toward the driver's seat.

"What the _frak_ are you doing?" Fox demanded.

"Taking her back, unless you have a better idea." Rex turned to his brother. Fox was still breathing a little harder than normal and his eyes flickered back to the Doctor once before he shook his head. Even that small act of deference was uncharacteristic. Rex glanced at the Doctor, curiosity burning in his gut.

"We can't…" Fox said but trailed off. _I can't let this chance go!_ He thought.

"If you think you can beat the answers out of her before the Empire finds us, do it."

Fox couldn't even look Rex in the eyes.

"I'll drop you near the next depot," Rex said after a moment of painful silence filled with resignation. "Then I'll take the _good Doctor_ back and make up some excuse: right place at the right time kind of thing."

"You think they're going to buy that?" Fox asked skeptically.

"No _vod_ would, but these are mongrels. They're stupider than you give them credit for," Rex said with a roll of his eyes. "And I'm a mindless clone. I don't have the _capacity_ to lie or think for myself."

Fox made a half amused humf noise as Rex started up the engines. They both nearly missed the Doctor's whispered aside.

"You're more right than you know."

"Add that to the list of things you're going to explain after this, Doc." Rex kicked the speeder to life and maneuvered them out of the parking structure.

"Tahmina." Her voice was softer, rough, but not unkind.

"What?" Fox asked.

"My name. It's Tahmina Orsa. Seems only fair since I already know yours." She looked down at her hands in her lap then glanced up to meet his eyes hesitantly. "For what it's worth," she ventured, "Thank you."

Fox's throat constricted and he couldn't find the words to respond. He hated to give her the one thing that she was denying him. It made her gratitude feel like a knife twisting between his ribs.

"Don't thank us just yet," Rex replied over his shoulder as he steered them into the main speeder lanes. Tahmina Orsa looked back down at her hands in her lap and tried to temper her hopes.

" _K'urci ni sha Dul'pir'yaim, sha ca'nara naas-ehn-olan ,_ " _Meet me at Dul's bar, 0300 hours,_ Fox said to Rex in a hushed voice.

" _Ret'_ " Rex said with a nod as they pulled up to a speeder platform a few blocks away from a nearby stormtrooper dispatch depot. Fox climbed out the front side door, with one last look back at the Doctor. He slammed the door behind him as he hopped down onto the duracrete. Rex shot away in the unmarked truck, while Fox watched all the answers he'd been chasing for more than half a year dwindle to just another speck in the Coruscanti sky lanes.

Fox jammed his helmet back on his head and squared his shoulders to the world. He retreated inside his armor, hiding every treacherous emotion back in the durasteel prison he'd built for them. He marched away from the platform looking like any other trooper, going about Imperial business.

.

 **Chapter 16: An Enemy's Enemy Part II**

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After the sun set the temperature dropped rapidly. Ny sat on the damp ground with her arms wrapped around herself, shivering and sniffling. She missed the warm _karyai_ of Kyrimorut. She had never lived in a house with a fireplace before meeting Kal. It was comforting in a primal way to have raw warmth and power at the center of the house, drawing everyone together.

Ny could always someone by the constant fire, day or night. Besany sat there in the mornings while she braided her hair, and she was always happy to listen. Laseema played with the children beside the fire during the day and always welcomed Ny to join in. Kal slept by the fire more often than not in the nearest chair just waiting to comfort anyone who wandered in, whatever the hour. If no one else was there Vau was propping his feet up with Mird at his side. Ny would take the hard old soldier's silent company over the Bounty Hunter's icy glare in an instant. She'd give up ever seeing her ship again to be back on Mandalore with Kal's strange family. She sniffled loudly and whipped her nose with her sleeve, telling herself it was just the cold and the stinging in her eyes was just the wind.

The Bounty Hunter looked up suddenly and stood. She remained stone still watching a single star high above them.

"They're here," she said softly. Ny peered up into the darkness speckled with indistinct shapes of light. She didn't see anything for several long minutes. Then one star started to get brighter and move faster across the sky. It became a red burning streak in the atmosphere then a bright light descending through the cold clear air.

The sounds of an engine drive had never sounded so good to Ny.

The ship that set down half a dozen meters from them was a bulky, bulbous transport vessel with a strange, yellow-stripped livery and odd characters painted on the side. The boarding ramp lowered slowly and spilled warm light from inside. The Bounty Hunter started toward the ship confidently as a slender figure in what looked like an elaborate headdress descended from the ship. Ny trailed after the Bounty Hunter cautiously and noticed a tall, dark-skinned man trailing similarly after the woman. The two pairs met halfway.

On closer inspection Ny saw that the woman's headdress was actually a part of her physiology. She was a red and white togruta, and judging by the size of her montrals she was still a young adult. She was dressed in sturdy athletic clothes like the Bounty Hunter and openly wore a hand blaster on each hip.

"I was under the impression you were dead," the Bounty Hunter said in a tone that was both cold and smooth at the same time.

"I'm surprised you're not," the Togruta replied. Her voice was unmistakably the same one from the comm.

 _They know each other!_ Ny could have smacked her own forehead in frustration.

"Wait," the man cried at his companion, "you know this _witch?_ " He was as tall as the togruta's montrals and his head was just as hairless. He had dark shadows under his eyes and deep lines around his mouth. His clothing looked washed but it was heavily stained.

"Oh we go way back," the Bounty Hunter replied snidely.

"We've reluctantly worked together before," the Togruta cut in tersely, "when it was mutually beneficial."

"Can we trust her?" Ny caught the man asking the Togruta softly.

"No," the Bounty Hunter answered back. "All I want is the bounty on Djela Kur and to be on my way. What is your interest in him?"

"He stole something from us," the Togruta said evenly.

"You mean _someone!_ " Ny said darkly.

"Yes," the Togruta didn't even flinch.

"Well I know you're no slaver," the Bounty Hunter said. "So what is your interest in the youngling?"

"We just want her back," the Togruta said evenly.

 _They're trying to rescue the child,_ Ny thought. _Oh,_ kark! _Did I help kidnap their daughter?_ She felt slightly sick at the thought. The Bounty Hunter just shrugged.

 _"_ Then you won't mind if I take Djela Kur off your hands," she said. "Seems like a fair deal."

"What about my ship?" Ny spoke up. The dark skinned man glared at her in outrage, like she had tried to equate dirt to spice.

"You must be Nyreen Vollen, the pilot Djela hired," The Togruta said looking Ny up and down more kindly than her companion. Ny guessed she was a worse sight than the man: dirty, sweaty and disheveled.

"Djela called in a debt," the Bounty Hunter explained for Ny. "He thought he could hide his tracks by hiring someone outside the system. He wasn't very discreet about it though."

"Yeah," the Togruta said, "we followed the same trail."

"But you had something else," the Bounty Hunter's eyes shifted to man beside the Togruta. "I'm impressed you hid something from me." Ny saw the large man flinch and look away quickly. The Bounty Hunter apparently didn't go around making many friends or saying _please._ The Togruta stepped between her companion and the Bounty Hunter.

"Do you want our help or not?" She asked. "I don't see your ship anywhere nearby so I assume you're walking to the nearest civilized outpost. That's a long way to go on foot."

The Bounty Hunter growled lowly.

"I do," Ny said immediately, feeling guilty for asking anything of people she had wronged so grievously.

"Shut up!" The Bounty Hunter hissed.

"You're welcome to come with us," the Togruta said, ignoring the rude outburst.

"What? She's Djela's friend," the man hissed.

"Friends don't steal their friends' ship," his companion said, then added, "usually."

 _You must have interesting friends,_ Ny thought. But then again, she had befriended a small army of genetically engineered soldiers.

"Fine," the Bounty Hunter shrugged and crossed her arms, "we'll do this your way little padewan."

The Togruta narrowed her eyes in a glare. _Great!_ Ny thought, _more force-users._ _I'm starting to be as biased as Kal._

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't go around calling me that," the Jedi hissed. "I'd rather certain parties didn't learn I survived."

"Alright, no names, if I can expect the same from you."

"Deal," the Jedi agreed.

"So what do I call you?"

"Captain will be fine," the Togruta smirked almost cruelly at the Bounty Hunter's grimace of disgust. "It _is_ my ship after all."

"Not much of a ship."

"More than you have. And what are you going by nowadays? I don't suppose I can go around calling you the Hairless-Harpy?"

"I see your crude humor survived the war. Bounty Hunter works as well as any name." Ny was surprised to hear what might have been genuine amusement or relief in the raspy voice.

The Togruta, the Captain, just shrugged apparently unbothered by the Bounty Hunter's reticence to answer.

"Then we're in agreement. We track down Djela and retake the _Cornucopia._ Sayne and I get the cargo, the Bounty Hunter gets her man, and Nyreen get's her ship back. We all go our separate ways and never speak of this again."

"Agreed," the Bounty Hunter hissed. She stalked forward toward the ship without waiting for an invitation. The man, Sayne, turned to the Captain as soon as the Bounty Hunter was behind them and gave her a pointed look.

"She may not be nice but she's honest," the Captain told her companion in an authoritative tone that lived up to her self appointed title.

"Come on aboard, Ms. Vollen." the Captain turned away from Sayne's skeptical look and spoke to Ny kindly. "I'll see if we can find something to warm you up. I'm sorry for not introducing myself, but these are dangerous times."

"Yeah," the old pilot sighed, "I can't blame you. Call me Ny." She held out her hand and the Captain shook it firmly with a warm grip. Maybe it was some Jedi Force trick, but Ny felt suddenly more at ease and secure. Or it was just the warmth of the ship she was climbing into chasing out the last chills of her perilous plunge through empty air. She took one last look at the shadow-shrouded, ubiquitously green landscape that so nearly became her grave.

 _Nearly dying does strange things to you I guess,_ she thought and turned away from it for what she hoped was the last time.

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Dul's bar was nearly empty at 3 in the morning. A few patrons were scattered at the shadowed tables, some slumped over in drunken stupors. Dul wandered around the tables, collecting empty glasses and plates. His peg leg made hollow thuds against the floorboards in the near silence. Rex was limping nearly as bad as the scarred barman when he came in, and dressed in his civi's he was barely distinguishable as a clone. Dul took one look at his old friend and jerked his head toward a secluded booth in the back.

Fox was already there, slumped uncharacteristically in his seat. His hair was disheveled and his fatigues were un-tucked. He hardly looked like the same man Rex had meet there only a few weeks ago.

Rex slid into the booth on the other side of the table. He glanced at the cloudy bottle of Dul's moonshine sitting at Fox's elbow.

"Sorry I'm late," he muttered and reached for the bottle. He paused half way through he motion and glanced at his brother. Fox was looking down at his limp hands on the table—not even acknowledging Rex's arrival.

"What no reprimand?" Rex asked. "How much of this stuff have you had?" He lifted the bottle and sloshed around the nearly full contents.

"I haven't touched it," Fox said, glancing at Rex then looking out at the bar, absently running a hand through his already messy hair.

"Than you won't mind if I help myself," Rex said, half expecting Fox to take up the clear opening for criticism. Rex poured his drink and downed it absentmindedly, only shocked out of his pondering by the acrid taste of the drink. He always forgot how terrible it was.

"You look like shit," Rex told Fox as he poured himself another.

"That's hilarious coming from you," Fox quipped back but there was no emotion in his voice, not even annoyance. "So they bought your story?"

"Yeah," Rex nodded and sipped his drink. "It helps that Nasis shot out all the holocams in the area and there are no living witnesses—other than Orsa." He tried not to think about the poor mongrel he had gunned down himself. _How old was he?_ Rex wondered absently. _20 or 21 maybe,_ he figured by the man's voice, _still older than any brother._ Rex forced down those thoughts and followed by the rest of his glass. "Orsa sold it—told them I rescued her and insisted on flying around four districts to make sure we weren't followed. She's a decent actress."

"Only means she could be playing us as well," Fox muttered and snagged the bottle from Rex. He poured a generous measure into his clean glass.

"You don't think she'll hold up her end of the bargain?"

"You heard what she thinks of us," Fox spat and glared at Rex, finally looking more like himself. "She has no reason to follow through and every reason not to. She's given in. She's just another slave—same as us."

"I wouldn't be so sure," Rex said, looking down at the last drop of bluish alcohol rolling around as he tipped his glass. "She risked her mother's life and her own to disrupt the Emperor's plans by hiding Luke and saved our lives in the process. Those don't seem like the actions of someone who's given up. It's not a reason to trust her but at least we know we're on the right rack. That's more than we had this morning."

"That won't make a difference if we're caught and reconditioned!" Fox downed his glass and refilled it.

"It's a bit late for caution," Rex said with wry amusement. "It was never my strong suit anyway. Neither was giving up; I'll see this through to the end."

Fox glanced up from his cup and sighed. "To the end," he said and held up the glass. Rex filled his own, and lifted it to Fox's.

" _Mar'ecye,"_ he said and they both drank. _Mar'ecye_ was a fitting description for their goal. It described the feeling of elation finding something after a long and painful search. Mandalorians believed it was a state of heaven—nearly unattainable and transcendent: a dream. The answers they were looking for felt somehow farther away than they ever had before, elusively dreamlike.

Rex wondered if he might not like the answers even when he did find them. _At least I'll know,_ Rex thought. _What is Fox hoping to find?_ The shock of watching Fox loose control hadn't completely worn off yet. He was debating how to approach the explosive subject when Fox grumbled into his drink.

"Are you going to ask?"

"I was thinking about it," Rex answered. "Must be someone special to make you loose your cool like that." To Rex's surprise Fox laughed dryly and shook his head, grinning a pained smile.

"I wouldn't know," he said. "I've never met him."

"Huh?"

"Kagiso," Fox said softly with an awed expression, his eyes bright. "My son's name is Kagiso. He was born during the war. I've never even seen him." Fox laughed again, the sound choking off as he covered his mouth.

"Shab," Rex breathed, staring wide eyed and mouth agape. _Straight-lace, by-the-book, not-a-toe-out-of-line Fox has a_ child! _It doesn't seem like him to risk being reconditioned by having an affair, much less a child—tangible proof of his disobedience._

"I spilled everything in that debriefing—about his mother, her home world, and our marriage." Fox went on when he got his voice back, "The Emperor knows who they are and how to find them. Doctor Orsa said we lived because we could be controlled. If I step out of line, it will be their lives. They're the Emperor's assurance against… against _this!_ Frak! I'm just like her." Fox slammed his fist against the table and the glasses jumped with a loud crash that sounded like blaster fire in the silent bar.

A few of the scattered patrons turned at the noise and Rex glared at them until they looked away. It gave Fox a moment to compose himself. When Rex looked back Fox was leaning against the wall behind him. He stared resolutely at the ceiling, blinking.

"What has the Empire done with them?" Rex asked softly.

"Nothing as far as I can tell," Fox answered, his voice more even and controlled. "I know where they are. I keep track of them discreetly when I can."

"So this…" Rex didn't put a name to their treason.

"I _have_ to know what they know—I need to know everything!" Fox said lowly, his hands fisted on the table. "I don't trust them—I don't trust anyone anymore. Maybe if I have something of my own, something to bargain with I can protect them… protect my family… my son." His gaze snapped up to pin Rex. "That's why you're doing this isn't it—to protect that child? You know who he is, don't you—who he really is?"

Rex felt blood drain from his face. "I sure know who he isn't," he replied.

"This is why I hate you; even now you won't tell me a _fraking_ thing," Fox growled, his eyes tight with a shadow of the anger that had possessed him to attack Orsa. Rex bit the inside of his cheek as he considered what he could tell his brother. Last time the subject had come up he'd been surprised at Fox's acceptance. _For once, I understand you,_ Fox had said that morning. Fox was probably the only brother, apart from Cut, who might.

"It was his mother," Rex admitted tensely, spinning his glass on the table nervously. "She cared about us, about our brothers." His hand stilled as his mind filled with the memories of his short mission on Naboo. "She was one of the bravest and kindest people I've ever known."

But it wasn't Padme Amidala he was seeing in his memory; it was a small togruta with red and white facial markings. Her face was ashen and streaked in livid, unnatural, blue veins. Her breath was coming raggedly, her small ribs heaving with every gasp. He could see the sweat on her feverish forehead but her skin was as hot as his own when he lowered his forehead to hers.

"How do you know he's her son?" Fox snapped Rex out his memories. The tense feeling in his chest eased as Rex inhaled quickly, the memory driven away. _What was that?_ He wondered. Fox was still glaring him down for answers and Rex struggled to find a way to explain how he knew Luke was Padme and Anakin's son. When the boy had his father's eyes and even as an infant his strength with the Force was apparent, it was unquestionable, even if Kenobi hadn't revealed the secret marriage.

"Because I know who his father is, and I know how Palpatine found the boy—I was the one who told him where to look," Rex admitted with a heavy sigh.

"And the kid's father? I noticed you used the present tense so you must think he's still alive. Was he also a Jedi?"

"I never said anything about Jedi," Rex schooled his face and chose his words with care. "Besides the Jedi Council forbade attachments; Jedi didn't have families." He didn't dare try to outright lie to Fox.

"Humf," his brother made frustrated noise and leaned back into his chair, shoulders tight with anger. "Fine," Fox growled. "I can see that's your way of telling me to be happy with what I've got."

"I don't expect you to be happy about any of this," Rex defended, scrambling for a way to explain the deadly waters Fox was wading into. "Luke's secret isn't one that gives you power over anyone. It'll just get you killed—and Luke's father is just as likely to kill you as the Sith because you know it."

Rex shivered to think what Anakin Skywalker would do to the men who betrayed him and helped steal his son. During hte war he had seen up close what Skywalker was capable of when angered. Even though he still had nightmares of the Emperor's office and the smell of rotting, burning flesh, he would take the Sith over Anakin without question; the Sith wouldn't take Rex's betrayal personally.

"Is that why you didn't return him to his father, if the man's still alive?" Fox asked, peering at his brother's fearful expression.

"I couldn't if I wanted to; I have no idea where he is," Rex sounded relieved to be able to say it.

"But even if you did, you wouldn't."

 _Would I?_ Rex asked himself. He had seen what kind of Master Skywalker had been to Ahsoka. Despite his care, Anakin was absentminded and self-centered, largely leaving his Padewan to fend for herself. She had survived on her strong will and independent drive. _Would Skywalker treat his son any differently?_

"I don't know what kind of father he would be," Rex said without answering the question.

"And how well do you know these people you left the boy with?" Fox criticized. "What kind of parents do you think an army of Mandalorian mercenaries will be? They're soldiers—like us."

 _Like Skywalker,_ Rex thought before he remembered Anakin had been a Jedi first—that Anakin was _supposed_ to be a Jedi first.

"I didn't turn out to be much of a father," Fox muttered into his drink. "All I've done is endanger my child since before he was born. Do you think they'll be any better than me, or you?"

Rex had never paused to think what kind of father he would be—he never thought he would get the chance. He thought of Cut Lawquane and his two adopted children. _Maybe if I make it through this I'll take Luke to Selucamai,_ he thought. _It would be good to see Cut again and he'd know how to raise a child right. We could have a quiet life._ His heart was heavy with longing and the word _mar'ecye_ came to mind again. His heaven was somewhere far from the never-ending wars, where he could be free of the constant doubts. _It's just a ridiculous fantasy,_ he told himself.

"Luke's better off than we were," he said to Fox. "He's no one's slave." _That's what his parents would want for him,_ Rex thought and it was a small comfort.

"Is that what you think we are?" Fox asked. Rex remembered Cut asking a similar question what seemed like a lifetime ago.

"I didn't always. I thought our freewill made us different. But I'm not so sure we have that anymore."

"You could always make Coric's choice," Fox reminded him.

"Coric didn't have a choice," Rex answered bitterly. "He killed himself because he couldn't live with the guilt for actions he assumed were his own." Rex poured himself another drink before he spoke again, his voice low and heavy with old pain. "You know what happened on Umbara—what we did on Krell's orders."

"You killed your own brothers." Fox didn't say it accusingly, but solemnly.

"We did," Rex fought to keep his voice level. "Some of my men couldn't live with that. They might not have taken blasters to their own heads, but they just stopped fighting and let the tinnies get them. They thought pulling the trigger made them culpable, orders or no orders. Dying that way was the only escape they had."

"Guilt like that never goes away," Fox said, nodding in agreement. When he lifted his glass to his lips the bluish liquid trembled.

"I guess you know that too," Rex said softly. "I hated you for what happened to Fives, and you damn well knew it. We always had disagreements, but after that day I could barely call you my brother. You let me believe it had been as easy for you as following any other order." Fox wouldn't meet his brother's eyes.

"If you knew what happened on Umbara," Rex pushed, "then you knew of all the brothers I could…" Rex was cut off by the kitchen doors slamming against the wall as they flew open.

Dul's wooden leg cracked hard against the floor and the disfigured clone charged across the bar with more speed than Rex thought possible. He slammed both hands, flesh and metal, down on the table with a tremendous bang. The bottle of moonshine toppled over and gushed liquid as it rolled.

"What in the galaxy have you two done, Rex?" He growled out in his coarse voice, his bright, red eyestalk swiveling between the two men.

"What that _kark_ are you talking about?" Fox asked.

"I'm talking about that Hutt's place going up like it was slagged from orbit an hour ago?"

"What?" Rex asked, dumbfounded.

"Qibbu's place?" Fox asked, not entirely sure why he was supposed to care.

"Yeah," Dul growled and fumbled with his pocket for a datapad. He slammed it on the table and a hollo projection flickered to life overtop the device. It resolved into the grainy image of the façade of Qibbu's establishment and sparse traffic passing it on the shadowed sidewalk. A familiar figure walked into the view of the camera, moving with singular purpose toward the door.

"Nasis?" Rex breathed.

The former cop walked into the grungy bar. A few seconds later the hollo projection exploded. The entire view shuddered, and smoke, like a solid writhing organism, condensed where the bar and the small image of Nasis used to be.

"It wasn't us!" Fox snapped.

"I have a hard time believing you've got nothing to do with it." Dul backed up the recording until the tinny figure of Nasis came out of the bar backward and down the sidewalk. For a moment his jacket flapped open as he walked. Dul scrolled on the pad and the image enlarged until Rex and Fox could make out the dets strapped to man's chest like a life-vest.

 _"_ _Frak!"_ Fox cursed.

 _"_ _Shab,"_ Rex whispered. _Not again,_ he thought. _When did the world go crazy? Or better yet, when did I?_ He picked up the bottle and poured out the little liquid trapped in the bottom. He knocked it back knowing it wouldn't help.

"Nasis blew up Qibbu's bar?" Fox asked.

"Why?" Rex demanded of no one in particular while Fox rationalized.

"That doesn't make sense. Qibbu was the one paying him. We haven't even given-over the second half of the codes. Even if the Hutt was planning on shorting him, Nasis wouldn't know that yet."

"The Underworld is already buzzing," Dul growled. "So far no one knows who or why. If it erupts into a gang war it could mean a lot of bodies will be dropping down turbo chutes around here in the next few days. If the Slimy-Hutt is really gone that means a whole part of the market has opened up and there are a lot of interested parties vying for a piece. It's gonna be madness in this whole sector because of this!"

" _Naasi'bac!"_ Rex cut in, _forget that!_ "Nasis wouldn't do that!"

"He did! You've made your usual mess, Rex," Dul muttered. "This isn't one I can clean up." Dul swiped his datapad off the table and stormed off, his peg leg banging out his anger against the floor. The old clone retreated behind the bar and slammed around bottles for a minute in a mockery of cleaning. He stopped suddenly, dropping the rag in his hands, and his shoulders sagged exhaustedly. Rex gritted his teeth and looked away.

"He's scared," Fox said.

"This is his world and he has to live in it, alone," Rex answered. _Unlike us,_ he added as an afterthought. He never thought he'd be happy to be sitting across from Fox, but it was better than sitting alone. "There's nothing we can do about it."

"All we can do now is wait."

"Waiting was never one of my strong suits either," Rex sighed and tipped the bottle over his glass again, but nothing came out. He frowned at it and set it back down. Fox slid out of the booth and straightened his fatigues a little uncomfortably.

"In answer to your question before," Fox said without looking at Rex, "I didn't need your forgiveness"

"For Fives?" Rex asked. Fox nodded with on sharp jerk of his chin. Rex smirked ruefully. "You didn't need it or you didn't feel like you deserved it?" he asked. Fox's shoulders stiffed ever so slightly, something Rex might not have seen if his brother had been wearing armor.

"Contact me if anything happens," Fox didn't wait for Rex to reply before he started across the bar.

"Fox," Rex called to him and his brother paused. "For once, I understand you." It was as close to forgiveness as Rex could get. Fox meet his gaze evenly then turned and left without another word.

Rex leaned back in his seat. _The world really has gone crazy,_ he thought, _and I'm just along for the ride._ _Did I always have this little control over my fate or was I just unaware of it?_ He wondered. _Maybe I just trusted the people holding my life more back then._ His life now rested in the hands of Doctor Tahmina Orsa. His arm prickled with the ghostly feeling of her fingers' bruising grip and the cold needle against the inside of his elbow. Rex shuddered and picked up the moonshine bottle. To his disappointment it was still empty.

.

Author's Note: Ok… so yeah. That was the chapter. It took way too long to get that out. Damn writers block! Damn depression sapping all my inspiration! (sigh) I hope you enjoyed it. Next chapter will hopefully be up sooner this time... but I make no promises. –Em.


	17. Chapter 17

Author's Note: I lied. There are more than four chapters left. Bit of a flashback in this chapter, you get to see what Fox and Izana were like… or at least the tragic end. But there may yet be hope for them… I mean, I haven't _killed_ either of them (yet). Tell me what you think of them? Do you want more? (Maybe not in this story though. I'm not against writing tie-ins.)

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 **Chapter 17: Sacrifices**

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 _two years prior_

 _._

The Senate building was quite in the early morning before the day's session began. Commander Fox strode with purpose to the doors of the Gaianan senator's offices and knocked firmly. The Senator opened the doors almost immediately with a sad and tired expression on his face, so freckled it was nearly tan. Fox looked past him to the woman standing at the desk, her shoulders bent inward and her hands on her smooth belly. Her peach curls hung around her face, loose of the elaborate arrangement she usually kept them in.

Fox stepped into the office and quickly took off his helmet, giving the senator a worried look. The elder man dropped his eyes to the floor uncharacteristically.

"I can give you only a few minutes," the Senator told him softly, shutting the door. "I know it isn't enough." With that he slipped into his private study, leaving the pair alone.

"Izana, What is going on?" Fox asked, coming up beside the woman. Her lips trembled in a way he'd never seen before. He lifted her chin with one gloved hand. The fear in her eyes made his heart stop for a painful second.

"Parliament voted last night," she whispered, as if the words themselves were dangerous. "Since the Republic will not relax restrictions on cloning, they have elected to join the Confederacy of Independent Systems."

 _Separatist,_ Fox thought the word with a shudder, _my wife is a Separatist._ His body felt numb and his chest was so cold it was burning.

"We knew this was a possibility," he answered, finding his voice just as soft. He didn't realize his hand on her cheek was shaking until she reached up and held it more firmly against her face.

"I have to leave," she said, "now, with the Senator, before the Senate hears the decision. I would be a prisoner of war if I stayed. I know too much about who in the Gaianan Parliament can be convinced or bought, and, if our relationship was discovered, you would be punished."

"And I can't go with you," he said hopelessly. "I would be a prisoner as well if I didn't turn over what I know about the Republic Army; I can't betray my brothers that way, and you can't be associated with me, for your sake and our child's."

"Our son," she whispered and Fox felt his frozen heart leap. Against it all, he couldn't help smiling at the news.

"A boy?" he asked her. Izana smiled back at him and nodded.

"I found out this morning."

Fox put his hand over hers against her stomach. Fox had hoped his child, his son, might not have to live the violent life he had, that there would be a childhood that wasn't filled with war and pain for him. But the events that were set into motion by Gaiana's decision were tearing his hopes apart bit by bit.

"We both know the Republic won't let Gaiana go without a fight," he said gravely, his joy evaporating as quickly as it came. "The planet has too many resources."

"I know. The army will blockade Gaiana and try to invade the capital if they can."

"You won't be safe there."

"No safer than you are here," she whispered, meeting his eyes. She didn't need to say aloud that it would probably be the last time they ever saw each other. Fox was caught for a moment between desperately drinking in her face with his eyes, trying to memorize the pattern of her freckles and her pale eyelashes brushing her cheeks, and his need to crush her to his chest and claim her lips with his one last time.

The door of the Senator's office opened and the man bustled out hurriedly.

"The shuttle is ready, Izana," he said taking her arm. "I'm sorry. We have to go, now." Izana reticently let go of Fox's hand and it slid from her cheek.

 _It's too soon!_ He thought frantically the moment she turned away. _There are so many other things I need to say: I'm sorry for this; I'm sorry for what I am; I love you; Be safe; Keep our son safe; Tell him I love him… that I loved him… Tell him all I wanted was a peaceful life for both of you; Tell him that's all I was ever fighting for._

 _"_ Kagiso," Fox said hurriedly and Izana turned back to look at him. _Kagiso_ was the word for peace is ancient Gaianan. "Our son, name him Kagiso, for me." Her eyes filled with tears even as she tried to blink them away, and she nodded, knocking them free.

The senator wrapped an arm around her shoulders and led Izana away out the side door to the private landing pad. Fox watched her peach curls until the door had swung shut behind the senator and his aide. That was the last Fox had seen of her, the last time he heard her voice. He hadn't even touched her, not with his bare skin, just his gloves. The last kiss he had missed tortured him for years afterward.

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 _two years later_

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Ahsoka was getting restless. She'd never been good at waiting, especially not when her friends were in danger. It had been almost three days since she picked up Ventress and Nyreen Vollen, and there had been no word from Jeu. Ventress's contacts were even less helpful. Ahsoka could barely sit still for more than a few minutes and every passing hour the anticipation and dread mounted. She knew her master would be pulling out his hair by now. She liked to think she wasn't quite that bad. But she had worried her lip until it bled. _Like master, like student,_ she thought in a huff and crossed her arms over her chest, leaning back to watch the star-lines streaming past the cockpit view-screen of _Shard,_ her togruti freighter.

It wasn't the sleekest or the fastest ship she'd ever piloted but it was non-descript, common enough, and suited her needs. It was at least big enough for the three near strangers that found themselves as her passengers. The tension on the ship was nearly suffocating. Sayne was angry with her for Ventress's presence and he didn't trust either the Bounty Hunter or the pilot, Ny. Ventress was her usual anti-social self and Ny was… reserved. Ahsoka could sense a deep well of loneliness and uncertainty in the old woman. Despite those feelings Ny kept to herself, holding her circumstances and emotions close. Ahsoka didn't know quite what to make of her. Ventress was caustic at every exchange and to Ahsoka's relief stayed in her cabin most of the time. Despite that, her dark presence spilled out and Ahsoka had to repress a shiver every time she passed it. She told herself it was too eerily reminiscent of Anakin, refusing to admit that it might resemble something in herself. Ahsoka shifted restlessly in her chair. A sharp pain on her bottom lip made her realize she was biting it again. She clamped her teeth together firmly. _Calm down, Ahsoka,_ she thought to herself. _There's nothing you can do right now but wait and be prepared when Jeu calls._ With force of will she slowed her breathing like she was meditating, something she hadn't done in a while. She tried to focus on her breath moving in and out of her lungs and nothing else. She imagined all the tension in her arms and legs filling up her chest and then exhaled it.

 _'_ _Relax, kid. You're no good to anyone exhausted,'_ unbidden the clone captain's words from so long ago echoed in her head. Her rhythmic breathing hitched. Ahsoka shut her eyes tightly against the onslaught of emotions that followed. She pressed one palm to the burning scar on her shoulder. It tingled as she rubbed it through her shirt.

Ever since Sayne told her about the Purge on Riash Ahsoka's nightmares of Order 66 had returned. It was hard to know what parts of her terrible, blood drenched dreams were real events carried to her in the Force and what parts were inventions of her fear-driven imagination. It was all too easy for her waking mind to imagine the clones turning on the younglings among them. In her dreams they were clones she knew, men she had called her friends, and she was helpless to stop them. Sometimes she dreamed the younglings fought back and cut down the clones while she cried for them. Waking up from those dreams, Ahsoka felt sick and wretched with anger and self-disgust. She couldn't forgive herself for caring about men that had turned on her anymore than she could forgive herself for forgetting the friends she had fought and struggled beside for years.

But the worst was the one recurring dream in which she wasn't helpless. The scenery changed, but the situation remained always the same. Ahsoka held a blaster in the dream and Katooni clung to her arm, shielded by Ahsoka's body from the clone. He was standing between them and the exit, the chin of his helmet tipped down like it would when he was serious and the two pointed eye markings stared Ahsoka down from overtop the black, anonymous visor. Ahsoka pleaded with him in the dream and every time her words were different. The result was always the same. The clone raised his blaster and she raised hers, sighting down the barrel as he'd taught her right at his heart. She felt her finger depress the trigger and saw the flare of his DC firing. She woke up with a ghost pain in her shoulder and a helpless sob caught in her throat.

Ahsoka first had the dream the night after retrieving Sayne. She jerked awake, muffling a cry with her fist and drawing blood with her sharp teeth. The images of the dream remained wavering before her eyes like a mirage. They were too close to the real memory of being blinded by the shot of his blaster and the pain that followed. She shivered in her bed for an hour after waking from the dream and clutched at her burning shoulder.

With a jolt, _Shard_ dropped out of hyperspace. The star-lines receded back into distant pinpricks of light in the blackness. A small shuttle hung in the void a few hundred yards off _Shard's_ aft side. The communicator on the dash beeped as the shuttle hailed them. Ahsoka flicked open the channel.

" _Thank you for being on time_ ," Jeu's voice echoed in the cockpit.

"We don't have much else to do. Have you found anything?" Ahsoka asked.

" _Nothing has changed. I will dock and come aboard. I can monitor my programs remotely from there."_

"Thank you, Jeu," Ahsoka said. "Opening the mag clams, you're free to dock."

" _Commencing docking,"_ Jeu said and clicked off the channel. Ahsoka was monitoring the shuttle's gentle progress toward them when the cockpit door opened with a hiss. She didn't need to turn to recognize the presence behind her.

"Has your Slicer turned anything up?" Ventress asked grumpily.

"No. She's still watching," Ahsoka answered. She swung her chair around to face her former enemy turned business partner.

"Humf," Ventress huffed and leaned against the doorway. "She's not going to be much help if someone else gets to Djela first."

"Your contacts told us you're the only one searching for him," Ahsoka shot back. "If he had tried to collect on the bounty they would have heard about it by now."

"Then why hasn't Djela shown up?" Ventress hissed rhetorically, glaring at the hallway.

"He will," Ahsoka answered with forced assurance. _He has to,_ she thought. Ahsoka couldn't help thinking of Katooni's scared expression and small cold hands gripping her arm from the terrifying dream.

"This is why I hate working with you; It's not profitable," Ventress growled, refereeing to their deal last time they had met on Coruscant.

"I did speak on your behalf," Ahsoka reminded her.

"I know," Ventress muttered. "It was always a long shot."

A tense silence fell between them. Ahsoka turned her attention to checking the docking clamps were properly coupled to Jeu's shuttle and there were no leaks in the airlock.

"You've changed, Tano," Ventress said. Ahsoka couldn't tell if there was a mocking tone to the voice or she just expected it.

"Maybe I just grew up," Ahsoka said lightly with a shrug.

"I'd heard you left the Jedi Order."

"I tried," Ahsoka nodded, a cold note in her voice. "It was harder than I expected. I'm still my Master's padewan to the Empire." And that was a death sentence.

"So they hunted you down as well," Ventress smirked.

"Is that why you left Coruscant?" Ahsoka pushed back for her own answers. Ventress just shrugged but her presence in the Force shifted. Ahsoka felt it grow turbulent before Ventress retreated behind her smooth, cold mental shields.

"So how does it feel having your own army turned against you?" Ventress asked acidly.

"I left the army," Ahsoka said seriously and her eyes narrowed. As much as she tried to hide it, the pang of betrayal bit deep. From the Bounty Hunter's satisfied smirk and the sadistic glint in her eyes, she caught Ahsoka's reaction.

"How many times did you stand against the droid ranks to protect your troops? Do you regret saving their lives after what they did?" Ventress taunted, looking happier than she had since arriving on _Shard._

"Those men weren't the ones that came after me."

"I know. They had better things to do that night."

"What are you talking about?" Ahsoka asked, fighting the dread in the pit of her stomach.

"I saw the clones—Skywalker's battalion—"

"The 501st?"

"Those same clones you protected marched on the Jedi temple that night. They burned it to the ground and left no survivors."

"They… no," Ahsoka tried to deny it weakly. She'd dreamed of slaughter in the temple, blood running down the grand stairs, and hoped they were just dreams.

"So much for loyalty and humanity," Ventress said viciously.

"Gloat all you like," Ahsoka snapped back angrily. "The Sith drove you into hiding as well. Why else would you be scrounging out here at the end of the galaxy instead of profiting off the lowlifes on Coruscant? You seemed to be doing fairly good business there last time I saw you."

Ventress frowned, "with the Jedi gone the Sith doesn't have to worry about hiding. He would have found me easily there, so I moved on."

"So the hunter becomes the hunted," Ahsoka mocked the vicious tone.

"I've been hunted all my life," the older woman replied smoothly. "You're the one running from your so-called friends—what was that brave Captain's name again?"

"Enough!" Ahsoka jumped up and tried to push past Ventress to the hallway but the tall woman blocked her path.

"Who are you so angry with, Tano? The clones, the Sith, or the Jedi? And don't spout that pious _banthadung_ about Jedi not feeling anger."

The words stung with truth. Ahsoka was fighting the anger she knew she shouldn't feel. Almost worse, Ahsoka didn't know how to answer. "Does it matter?" She deflected.

"Not really so long as you don't get us all killed," Ventress warned her darkly. "It may work for Skywalker but you wouldn't know the first thing about _using_ your anger." Ventress stepped back out of the doorway with her last quip: "Leave that to me."

"You're right," Ahsoka retorted, holding her head high and staring straight into Ventress's cold, pale gaze, "because my master isn't a Sith. I was trained by Jedi." Ventress didn't flinch but in the Force Ahsoka felt a deep pit of grief swallowing the anger and every other emotion in the other woman.

"So was I, long ago," Ventress responded softly, her gaze steady on Ahsoka's. She turned around and disappeared down the curving hall away from the cockpit. Ahsoka just stared after the Bounty Hunter in confusion.

 _Could that be true?_ She wondered. The grief at least was real. Whoever she was now, Ventress had once been someone who cared for another being other than herself. She was alone in the world now. Ahsoka unexpectedly felt something akin to pity because she knew that feeling; it was how she felt when she left the Order. Absently she put a hand on her concealed lightsaber, the physical reminded that she hadn't lost everything that day. She shook off thoughts of Ventress and turned in the opposite direction to go help Jeu set up her equipment.

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Having A'den around was, in a word, distracting. Considering he was there to fix her broken repulsor pallet he didn't spend much of his time working on it. He always found excuses to string out the job. Not that Vorpa really minded. She went to bed every night after his first surprise morning visit wondering if he'd be there again tomorrow. She woke up braced for disappointment until she heard him moving around in the hanger below her. _It shouldn't be comforting to hear someone moving around uninvited,_ she told herself. But she relaxed anyway and got up to drink his caf and listen to his stories.

More than that, she enjoyed the company, even when he was silent.

The day he really got into fixing her pallet Vorpa decided it was past time to address the reluctant landing strut that had been shuddering on deployment for a few weeks. She set to work taking apart the hydraulic-powered arm that was as big as she was.

Vorpa stretched on her toes to reach the secondary-actuator nozzle up inside the strut well, where it retracted when in flight. She could just get her fingers around the cylindrical part but it didn't leave her enough purchase or leverage to unscrew the little greasy _chaakar_. Vorpa cussed at it under her breath and reached higher. Her hand slipped and she lost her balance. Vorpa grabbed the lip of the well to steady herself and knocked off the nozzle housing she'd just removed. It clattered to the floor. She looked around for something to boost herself on as she retrieved the part. Her gaze fell on A'den's back where he sat against the hanger wall with his head bent over the circuitry, reaching now and then for a tool from the precise and orderly rows he had arranged them into.

 _He's a few inches taller than me,_ she thought. _Maybe it's my imagination but he seems even bigger than some of his brothers. They're clones though,_ she shrugged it off, _they must all the same size._

"Hey, clone-boy," she called out to him, "come give me a hand." Before she'd even finished speaking she knew the words had been a mistake and she instantaneously regretted them.

A'den froze as he was returning a tool to his neat array and for a moment he was absolutely still, wavering between two minds. Anger won out. He dropped the tool without care for where it fell and jumped to his feet. A'den advanced toward Vorpa, his head down and dark eyes shadowed by his brow. Every muscle from his shoulders to his clenched fists was tense and straining against the straps of his armor. The nozzle housing slipped from Vorpa's fingers and she couldn't help backing away. Her back hit the hard durasteel of the landing strut, cornering her between it and six feet of rippling muscle and amber beskar. Vorpa looked up with wide fearful eyes, and A'den glared down at her without a flicker of good humor or recognition in his blazing eyes—just blind fury. A'den had become a terrifying stranger.

"You have a problem with your name," he said with painstaking calm, a tendon in his neck twitching and his gloves stretching audibly over his curled knuckles. "Well I have a problem with _that word._ I have a name and an identity. I will take every half-hearted insult you can think to throw at me, but I will not let you strip away what makes me a man with the demeaning label of 'clone'."

Vorpa flinched when he raised his hand, but it didn't touch her. A'den raise it over his head into the well of the landing strut and twisted free the stubborn nozzle with one hard sharp tug. He lowered it slowly and put it in her shaking hands without breaking eye contact. His expression remained murderously angry. Without warning he turned away sharply.

Vorpa took a deep breath like she had been drowning. She barely felt the tears that rolled down her cheeks or the sweat evaporating from her forehead. She swallowed her gasps and fumbled for the rag on her belt. She tried to focus on cleaning the caked grime from the nozzle instead of A'den's burning, cold eyes. Her shaking hands, slippery with sweat, could barely keep hold of the cold metal.

Larger hands took it from her after a moment of struggle and she jumped in surprise, her head snapping up to see A'den had returned silently. His face was blank and appeared outwardly to be calm. It was such a jarring contrast to the unrestrained furry from only moments before it left Vorpa feeling shell-shocked. He scrubbed the part wordlessly with complete focus for a few tense minutes. When he was satisfied with it, he returned it to the strut-well.

"That night camping, when I told you I was a clone, I didn't tell you the whole story," he said without looking at Vorpa, his voice soft and serious. He picked up the nozzle housing from the floor and set to work reattaching it as well, while she remained frozen against _Gra'tua_ 's landing strut, keeping as much distance between them as she could.

"I'm not identical to the rest of my brothers. Ordo, Mereel, Kom'rk, Prudii, Jaing, and I are different from the other clones created for the Republic. We were the first experiments with Jango Fett's genome. Ko Sai, the Kaminoan geneticist responsible for the project, pushed her research to its extremes with us. She wanted perfect soldiers: men who were smarter, faster, stronger, bigger, more violent, more resilient, and more loyal. She succeeded, but not quite the way she wanted to. We were everything she hoped—the perfect killing machines; remorseless, pitiless, highly intelligent, and deviously violent. Except, we were never loyal to her.

"'Uncommandable' was the word she used. I know because I remember it as vividly as I remember every second of my life—another gift of her genetic manipulation. This moment is as clear to me as the moment she—the closest thing we had to a parent back then—decided we were 'defective' and sent us to be injected with lethenol and recycled as raw material—protein, minerals, liquid—to support the production of more clones."

Vorpa couldn't help the strangled sound that came out of her throat. She quickly covered her mouth with one trembling hand. A'den picked up the next piece of the hydraulic housing and kept his eyes on his work.

"That's when we met _Kal'buir_ ; that was the day he saved us. That's why I'll follow him anywhere. He didn't care that we were different—unpredictable and volatile at times. He has always loved us, regardless of what we were… or what we've done.

"Certifiably, I'm a violent psychopath. I don't have any inhibitions about lying to, stealing from, harming, or killing other living beings. I have rapid mood shifts and I don't always respond to situations the way 'normal' people should." Something about the way he said 'normal' sounded resentful and Vorpa repressed a shudder. "Despite my efforts, I can loose my temper and act in ways that seem incongruous with the stimuli—like a moment ago." He reattached the last piece of the actuator and ratcheted the final bolt into place.

"It's logical for that to frighten you," he said, finally meeting her gaze. His expression was closed and forcefully neutral even if his eyes were creased with tense anticipation. For a silent moment they just looked at each other.

 _I should apologize,_ she thought. _I shouldn't have said it. I should just say I take it back,_ N'eparavu takisit, _I eat my insult._ But her lips were numb and her tongue felt like lead in her mouth.

A'den held out the ratchet-wrench. She accepted it thoughtlessly. He stepped back slowly, deliberately holding his hands away from his sides and weapons. He turned, away from the repulsor pallet and toward the hanger door. Just before he turned his head, Vorpa saw his jaw tighten and his brow pull together in an expression of pain.

 _Shab! No, don't go!_ Vorpa thought frantically. She dropped the wrench and stumbled forward. She grabbed A'den's shoulder with one hand, pulling him back around. Her other hand roughly wrapped around the back of his neck and pulled him down. Vorpa squeezed her eyes shut and kissed him, trying to put the words she couldn't say into the action, and hoping she wasn't about to get a knife between the plates of her armor.

A'den was passively unresponsive for a fraction of a second, his brain shorting out at the unexpected closeness. Then he turned into the kiss and drew Vorpa closer with one firm hand on the small of her back. The other cupped her face, holding her in the kiss, determined not to let it end as quickly as the last one. He wanted to enjoy this.

After a minute Vorpa pulled away and A'den let her go reluctantly, already storing the memory where he could revisit it later and remember the strange taste of her lips, slightly salty this time. When he opened his eyes she was looking back at him, tensed like she was waiting for a blow to land. Her hands on his shoulders held them barely half a foot apart, far enough that she could slip out of his grip if she needed to.

"Even?" She asked him softly.

One corner of his mouth twitched upward than the other, and he gave in to the smile.

"Do I get another kiss if I say no?" He asked. Vorpa's face twitched as she fought her own smile.

"Don't push your luck," she said with fake menace that came out sounding watery and grateful.

A'den tightened his grip on her waist and leaned back down to capture her lips in an enthusiastic kiss. Vorpa tensed in his arms, her hands on his chest-plate pushing him away while her lips eagerly reciprocated. The kiss left them both breathless.

"I like pushing my luck," he said in her ear, and was rewarded with the wide smile on her face when he stepped away. Vorpa kept her eyes on the ground, trying in vain to hide behind her hair. A'den chuckled and turned back toward the broken repulsor pallet. He was halfway across the hanger when Vorpa spoke.

There was no smile in her voice.

"It was my father." Her face was turned away from him, putting a curtain of dark green hair between them. She raised one hand to the scarred abdomen plate and ran her fingers along the lines of the silver starburst.

"Your father?"

"The person who tried to kill me, it was my father," she explained. "I wish I didn't remember it half as well as I do."

"You'll have to tell me the story sometime," A'den said, intentionally keeping a light tone. The curious part of his mind was burning with the hope she would take him up on it that minute.

"Sometime," she agreed to his disappointment. But she hadn't pried about his past; he felt he owed her the same. "Maybe after you fix my lock," she shot over her shoulder with forced good humor.

"It's on order. May take a while to get here."

"I guess I'll have to put up with you hanging around until then?" She asked with a hopeful note.

"'Fraid so," he replied, sitting back down with his project.

It was easy not to linger on worry or curiosity as he went back to work. He settled himself where he could see Vorpa in the corner of his eye and catch her glancing at him with her rare, beautiful smile. Every time she did he felt light, almost weightless—even his armor felt no heavier than flimsy. She knew what he was—she'd seen first hand a glimpse at the darker side of it—and still accepted him. He gave her every reason to run and she had kept _him_ from leaving. That was enough.

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Fox continually marveled at the Empire's ability to layer bureaucracy and triple the amount of paperwork that upheld the system. On Kamino he'd been told the mission reports, logs, and forms were all to keep the army running smoothly and improve efficiency. Working in the prison system on Coruscant Fox was starting to see that all the paperwork was just a big smokescreen to cover any number of illegal and immoral things the Empire did when no one was watching. ORSA was not an isolated case, he was sure. If a prisoner's files were lost, the physical person ceased to exist, meaning the Empire could do whatever they wanted with that individual: torture, experiment, kill, or just use as bait the way they had used Kenobi. Knowing it's true purpose made doing the paperwork harder than it had ever been.

Fox sighed heavily and set the datapadd of transfer forms into the out-going stack to his right and picked up the next padd from the heaping in-coming stack to his right. His commlink went off with a soft beeping and Fox nearly grinned with excitement. _Maybe there's a prisoner to hunt down or a riot in the mess,_ he thought. He would take anything that would get him out of the cramped sweat-locker of an office and give him someone to yell at—or better, punch.

But the little device on his forearm wasn't blinking. Fox quickly dug in the hidden, inner pocket of his belt and drew out the little blinking device. Fox grabbed his helmet off the table and stashed it in the special drawer he'd lined with signal dampening sheeting. With that secured he pressed "accept" and opened the comm.

"You shouldn't be calling me," Fox said the moment the channel opened.

 _"_ _I wouldn't if it wasn't important,"_ Rex's hushed voice came out of the speaker.

"Something happened?"

" _Yeah, I got promoted."_

Fox frowned. "I didn't do it."

" _No, I think it was Orsa. I'm to report to my new Captain at 0600 tomorrow at the Central Detention Facility. It looks like she's holding up her end of the deal. Either that, or I'm walking into my own reconditioning… again."_

Fox shuddered and swallowed uncomfortably, his stomach churning. _He's right,_ Fox thought. _Rex is just as likely walking into his own death. But if he doesn't go I'll never know the truth._ Fox ground his teeth and tried to calm the churning. He never thought the day would come when he was worried for Rex's safety.

"Are you backing out?" Fox asked. It was dare, a taunt, meant to pressure Rex and they both knew it.

 _"_ Shab, _no. I'm following this trough, and not just for you!"_ Rex snapped back. " _I called to give you a warning. We both know our minds are vulnerable. If either of us is caught we'll rat out the other whether we want to or not. If you don't hear from me in 24 hours, get to Dul's place. He'll help you find a way off Coruscant. It's the best chance you'll have."_

 _More of a chance than you will,_ Fox thought with grudging respect. _Damn your self-righteous bravado, Rex._ "They'll know about Dul too," Fox said, "I'll find my own way if it comes to that."

 _"_ _And your family?"_ Rex's voice was surprisingly gentle. _"I wouldn't blame you if you ran now,_ vod _. You have a head start for the moment. You could still get them to safety before this all goes belly-up."_

"Next time, work up the guts to call me a coward to my face," Fox replied crassly. It bit to know that Rex was offering him an out, when Fox had just baited him into danger. "I'll talk to you in 24 hours."

 _"_ _Yeah, yeah_ ," Rex muttered and trailed off, his grumblings taking on the harsh consonants and cadence of _mando'a_ curses.

"Rex," Fox said at the last minute.

"What?"

 _"_ _K'oyacyi."_

There was a moment of stunned silence on the other end of the comm.

"You too, Fox." With a click, Rex was gone.

Fox sighed as he leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes with the heel of his palms. _Maybe Rex is right,_ a dark part of his mind thought. Mentally he tallied the light-years between him and his wife and son on Gaiana. Their world was on the edge of the Colonies but still entrenched in the Empire's control. Getting to them in Gaiana's capital city unnoticed would be difficult, if not impossible. Outsiders stood out on Gaiana and his face was too recognizable. Even if he could get to them, there was the danger of escaping with them. Neither of them were soldiers or spies, they were honest, upstanding citizens. They weren't used to running under the radar or hiding from their own government. It was never the life that he wanted for his family.

Fox put his head in his hands. The small, gray office had never seemed so much like a cell before. For the countless time he wondered if there had been a better way, a way they could have stayed together. But like always, he knew he could never have abandoned his duty to the Republic and his brothers. Even now, he found himself hoping that there was a way to continue serving his duty to the Empire without endangering his family. He owed the Emperor and the Senate his allegiance and his life—as he had since the day he was decanted. They had never betrayed him.

Until they dug around in his brain and stole every bit of privacy and freedom he had. He had always thought clones were less slaves than the Jedi because they were free to love who they chose. But Ven died for who he loved and Fox was living under a sword because of it. Wasn't that betrayal?

"No," Fox shook his head against the pounding that had started in the back of his brain. "I have a duty. I just have to find answers and go back to doing my duty." The pounding got louder, drowning out his thoughts and Fox gripped the sides of his head. Tears squeezed out of his eyes from the pain.

"I have a duty," he whispered to himself, trying to think of his son. But he couldn't remember the name he'd chosen for the boy. He couldn't remember what Izana's voice sounded like or what her last words to him had been. The memory slipped away like a dream.

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Author's Note: Leave me a review if you're interested in more Fox/Izana stuff or there's something else you want to see in the later chapters. Till next time—I hope you enjoyed it. –Em.


	18. Chapter 18

Author's Note: Sorry this wasn't up last night (I didn't have any internet :( ).

 **Chapter 18: Solitude**

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A'den's commlink chirped, breaking the comfortable working silence in Vorpa's office. She was so engrossed in replacing the wrapping on her _beskad_ she jumped violently and upset the whole process. She cussed colorfully while A'den retreated out onto the landing, raising the device to his lips as he walked and swinging the door shut behind him.

"A'den _olar,"_ he answered it.

" _Vod'ika,_ " a nearly identical voice answered before the door hit the edge of a haphazardly dropped toolbox with a loud bang. It remained wedged open ajar. Vorpa looked up when the door hit metal instead of the wooden doorjamb. With a sigh, she gave up on the wrappings. She'd have to start over anyway. She got up to close the door and give A'den his privacy.

"What is it, Jaing?" she heard A'den saying disappointedly when she reached the door, and she paused.

 _"_ _I found_ Cornucopia. _"_ Jaing answered.

"Where?" A'den demanded. Vorpa held the door with one hand and tried to convince herself to close it. _I shouldn't be eavesdropping on his call,_ she told herself.

Then Jaing said _"Jutta Space."_ It piqued Vorpa's interest and drove any inhibitions away.

 _"_ _I was back-tracing replacement part orders for a Corelian Monarch class freighter. One order led me back to an orbital repair station on the edge of Jutta Space._ Cornucopia _came limping in at sub-light 36 hours ago. The venting-regulators were burned out, probably from improper atmospheric entry or exit. It caused an ion buildup that burned out the hyperdrive mid-jump."_

"She's too good of a pilot for that to happen," A'den said. Vorpa could imagine his grave, thoughtful expression. "Even if she did have to burn up the regulators in atmo, she knows her ship well enough not to then try reaching light-speed. Is the ship still there?"

 _"_ _The station completed repairs ten hours ago and_ Cornucopia _left. There was no log of its destination. I got into the station's monitoring system. There was only one crewman—an Ilothorian. I'm sorry, A'den. She wasn't there."_

"You're sure it was _Cornucopia?"_

 _"_ _A'den."_

"Of course you're sure," A'den said and blew out a long exhale. "It's not your fault, Jaing. It was long shot you'd find anything at all in a data set that big, much less find it in time. At least we know her ship made it to Jutta Space. She may be there as well. Keep looking."

 _"_ _I wouldn't get my hopes up,_ vod _. If she's still alive, why hasn't she contacted us? Unless she is alive and just doesn't want to associate with us."_

"I'll do it myself," A'den said benignly, taking Jaing's words as a refusal.

 _"_ _No."_ Jaing said with a tone of weary resignation. _"You won't find anything I haven't and I already promised Kal'buir I'd keep searching."_

"You told him what you found," A'den didn't need to ask.

"I said I would keep him in the loop."

"How's he taking it?"

 _"_ _He's spent the whole day with_ Et-ika," Jaing said meaningfully.

"He's torturing himself because he feels guilty for starting that argument," A'den translated glumly.

 _"_ _He shouldn't. He was right. It was stupid to go there alone. Having rash people like that around is dangerous for everyone."_

"You're ignoring everything she has done for us. We at least owe it to her to find out what happened."

 _"_ _But we don't have to put ourselves at risk running all across the galaxy to do it."_

"Just find her, Jaing." A'den said curtly and cut off the call with a sharp click. Vorpa heard him take a slow deep breath and blow it out loudly, venting his anger. Vorpa could only guess the woman they were referring to was the same one she had been ferrying A'den and his father around to find. Vorpa stepped out onto the causeway slowly on impulse.

A'den looked up at the sound of her boots on the grating and quickly smoothed over his expression, but not before she caught the look of pain he hastily concealed. It left his eyes shinning too bright.

"You heard." He said without a hint of anger. It hurt more than an outright accusation, maybe because he had expected her to listen in. Vorpa looked down at her boots.

"It doesn't sound like things are good at home," she said, picking at the chipped paint on her thigh plate.

A'den sighed again and leaned on the railing of the stairs. "Things are… stressed. One of our friends is missing and _Et'ika,_ my sister, is sick…dying," he said at length, leaning against the stair railing and looking across the hanger at _Gra'tua_. "It's strange; I used to think a quick death was a few minutes, maybe an hour." He shook his head sorrowfully.

"That's true on a battlefield," Vorpa agreed, descending the stairs to stand just above him awkwardly. She felt she needed to be close to him, but wasn't exactly sure how to do that.

"With my sister… it could be weeks or months, even years. It's tearing my father apart to watch her die a little more every day. It terrifies him because he knows he'll have to watch the rest of us die the same way, slowly and far too young."

Vorpa balled her fists against the tightness in her chest when he mentioned his accelerated aging. She'd felt the same way the first time he offhandedly mentioned his shortened lifespan. In a culture of warriors there was no such thing as life expectancy, but A'den didn't even have the chance of cheating death to reach old age. Death would get him before long one way or another.

He had stated the facts of his life so frankly then. It made the frustration and anger in his voice now surprising.

" _Kal'buir_ can't live like this. Her husband can't live like this. Her son…" A'den cut himself off, biting his lip. "It scares Ordo too. With Besany pregnant, he can't help but think of what his wife and child will go through in who knows how many years—what all of our _aliit_ will go through."

 _She'll be alone with a child to care for,_ Vorpa thought stricken by her own pity for the woman she didn't even like Besany. _Those sick bastards! It wasn't enough to make them barely human—the_ demagolkase _had to steal their future too, their legacy! How many sons will Kal loose before he dies? Who will he have when they're gone?_

A'den sighed heavily, drawing Vorpa out of her dark thoughts.

"There's nothing I can do there but get in the way." He said with nearly convincing assurance. He pushed off the railing and started up the stairs.

Vorpa put her hand on his chest-plate and held him back. He stopped and gave her a questioning look, but the woman was watching the dusty stairs under her feet.

"Go home, A'den," she said softly.

"I can't help—"

"Go home," she cut him off firmly, still unwilling to meet his eyes, "while you can." She pushed him down a step with the hand on his chest and A'den was too stunned to resist. She turned away, head bent low, and climbed the stairs alone.

"Vorpa?" He asked softly. She reached the door of her office and kicked the toolbox out of the way harshly. The sound of hollow metal and hard objects rolling across the durasteel floor echoed in the hanger. She slammed the door shut behind her, leaving A'den frozen on the stairs.

Inside her office Vorpa slid to the floor in a ball, wrapping her arms around her legs. Her office felt too large without another person at the small desk. It was cold and impersonal, just a room she slept in and nothing more. Vorpa listened to the sounds of A'den's footsteps receding across the hanger and the door closing behind him. She felt her solitude more than ever, felt it like a physical hole under the scarred plate of armor. She pressed her hand against the old wound, but all she felt was cold, rough metal.

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Ny watched the large, dark-skinned man out of the corner of her eye while she waited for the caf to brew in the domed galley of the Jedi's ship. Sayne seemed to be frowning more intently every time she saw him, which was surprisingly little considering the four unlikely travelers had been sharing the limited space for going on four days. Sayne stayed in his cabin most of the time, Ny guessed sleeping. Though his frown deepened, the dark shadows under his eyes faded and his complexion got warmer. He still looked haggard and weather worn. It reminded her of Kal.

It was hard for Sayne not to remind her of Kal. He was gruff and coarse, but underneath it motivated by deep caring. Ny could see that much in the worry he wore more and more with the passing hours.

The caf pot beeped and Ny jumped. She poured herself a mug and, after a glance over her shoulder, poured a second.

"You look like you need it," Ny said, sliding the cup onto the table in front of Sayne. He sat up, startled and stared in confusion at the mug as if it was a foreign animal she'd passed him.

"Appreciated," he said stiffly and took the mug. Ny slid into the booth seat of the galley table across from him.

"That child, the one in carbonite, is a friend of yours?" Ny asked.

Sayne sipped his caf and set it down slowly before he answered, his eyes on the table the whole time.

"She's the closest thing to family I have left. She's _everything_ to me."

"I'm sorry," Ny finally said the words she'd needed to tell him from their first meeting. "If I'd known what Djela was doing I would never have—"

"Why didn't you ask?" Sayne demanded, like a damn within him had broken, and his mug banged against the table as he brought it down. Hot drops of dark liquid splattered the tabletop. Ny jumped at his sudden anger and fumbled for how to answer while he glared at her disapprovingly.

"I just wanted the job to be over, honestly," she answered sheepishly. "Djela is part of a life I tried to leave behind."

"Why agree to it in the first place? You knew what kind of person he was."

"I knew him a long time ago," Ny defended herself, "and not very well."

"Then why trust him?"

"I didn't!" Ny insisted. "I owed him, and it would have been more trouble for…" _for Kal, for A'den, for everyone at Kyrimorut,_ she thought. "…for the people I work with if he came looking for me."

"Are any of those people fifteen-year-old children?" Sayne hissed at her.

Ny opened her mouth to say something, but realized there was nothing she could say without giving away too much. How did she explain that the men she worked for were fourteen going on twenty-eight, experienced soldiers but fumbling family makers hiding from everyone and jumping at shadows?

"I know your type," Sayne went on in the face of her inarticulacy. "You aren't responsible for anyone else in this galaxy but yourself. You don't care about other people around you, so long as they don't affect you, so you never stop to think about the harm you might be doing—you just do what's best for you! Let the rest of the galaxy look out for themselves."

"I nearly _died_ trying to stop Djela from—"

"Trying to get rid of him! If it stopped affecting you than you wouldn't have a problem with it. You're only here because you want your ship back."

"That ship is the only thing I—" _It's the only thing I own in this galaxy, it's my home, it's everything I have, it's all I have left of Terin!_

"Is it more important than her life because you don't _know_ her?"

"No! I _tried_ to do the decent thing," Ny insisted, cowering back in her seat.

"The 'decent thing' and nothing more!" Sayne drawled, his tone dark, "Maybe you don't hurt anyone yourself, maybe you even do something good and selfless now and then—when you can afford to—but that doesn't make you a _decent_ person. That just placates your own guilt so you can sleep at night."

The little scrap of a padewan and the ancient Kaminoan Jedi sprung to Ny's mind. She couldn't forget thinking the danger of helping them wasn't worth it, their lives weren't worth it.

Ny said weakly, "You don't know a _thing_ about me or—"

"I know enough," Sayne spoke over her, then sighed, a weary sound of hopeless cynicism. "You're the kind of person I hate the most. I realized being a cop for so many years that I put away the worst criminals—truly horrible people who had done the very worst things you could imagine—but the world didn't get any better. I realized that it's people like you—who don't care enough to raise a hand, who can't be prosecuted or blamed, who could have made a difference and did nothing—people like that are what's wrong with the galaxy."

Ny stared dumbly at him, her throat closed up and soundless. Sayne pushed his mug back across the table toward her and stood up. He shuffled out of the room, limping slightly, his shoulders hunched in defeat. But it was Ny who felt beaten.

She couldn't remember the last time someone had lectured her like that. _Did my father ever do that?_ She wondered, scouring the dim memories of her childhood. _My mother might have when she bothered to care…_ Ny gripped her cup and bit her lip, feeling far too childish for someone her age and all the more ashamed for knowing that.

The worst part was the ring of truth in Sayne's words.

Ny had been alone for a long time, and after Terin she'd stopped believing that good deeds would make much difference, for her or against her. Until the day a tanned young man with a wide innocent smile and calloused hands introduced himself as A'den and asked her for a ride, Ny had been fending for herself and only herself, struggling to find even the will to do that.

Ny had made a lot of shady deals in her life, before and after Terin. She told herself she didn't have the luxury of asking what she was transporting or why it had to go undetected.

 _Instead of taking responsibility for what I was doing I helped out the odd stowaway,_ she thought bitterly. _Does that make up for any of it? How would I even know? I didn't care enough to ask whose life I was helping to destroy or who died to put creds in my pocket._

Her thoughts were sounding eerily similar to Kal's rantings about the Republic and the hypocrisy of the Jedi, who used his boys as living shields and flesh-droids. _Am I no better than them?_ She wondered and pushed her cup away, no longer able to stomach it.

 _Is that the way Kal sees me?_ She wondered. _If I hadn't been helping A'den when we met, what would he have thought of me? Would he hate me the way Sayne does? How long until he comes to that same conclusion?_ She couldn't stop the viciously painful thought from rising to the surface of her mind. Once there it refused to go away.

Pounding footsteps on the decking jerked Ny from her thoughts. The slicer, Jeu, ran into the galley as the Captain came around the corner in search of the commotion. Jeu's mouth, the only visible part of her face was tight with intense seriousness.

"What is it?" The Captain demanded.

"I have found _Cornucopia._ "

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After days of waiting the tension in _Shard_ was nearly tangible. The Bounty Hunter was checking the charge on her blasters every few minutes and shifting restlessly around the back of the cockpit. Sayne was fingering the safety on his heavy hand-blaster and twisting his ankle experimentally, assuring himself it wouldn't fail. The Captain was completely rigid, standing beside the pilot's chair. Only her white knuckled grip on one of her custom blaster's in it's battered hip holster and her restlessly shifting eyes dancing from screen to screen in the cockpit gave away her anxiety. Ny felt jittery and ridiculously exposed in her flimsy flightsuit. She was starting to understand why Mandalorian's liked armor.

Only the slicer, Jeu, seemed calm. She was sitting the pilot's seat going over the controls, talking softly to herself hands lighting on each knob and gauge as she took stock.

"Will you be alright?" The Captain asked.

"I am assured I will be able to pilot this craft the necessary distance. I will meet you at the rendezvous point." Jue replied evenly.

"If we don't make it…"

"I know the appropriate people to contact."

The Captain nodded stiffly to Jeu and with one last look at the flashing hyperspace out the viewscreen she turned and left the cockpit. Sayne followed her like an exaggerated shadow. He shot a suspicious look over his shoulder at Ny before the doors closed.

"Jue?" Ny asked the Slicer hesitantly.

"Do you require something?"

"Could you pass on a message for me if… well if I can't?"

"So long as it does not incriminate me in your death and it is within my ability to deliver the message," Jue answered succinctly, her head turned just enough that she might be able to see Ny from the corner of her eyes hidden behind the shinny, black visor.

Ny thought the first request odd until she realized Kal was exactly the kind of man to shoot the messenger if he didn't like the news. Kal also knew that Ny had made her own stupid choices despite his efforts to stop her. _He was only trying to look out for me and_ _I cursed his name up and down the galaxy,_ she thought bitterly with regret. _Can he forgive me for that?_ She wondered.

Ny tried to imagine what returning to Kyrimorut would be like. It was too much to hope that things could go back to the way they were before after the way she'd left. She shied away from the prospect of facing Kal again. It was undoubtedly going to be awkward and embarrassing. There was no way to defend her actions at this point. Ny would have to admit Kal was right and take the consequences. _What can he really say that Sayne hasn't said already?_ She thought. Her already shattered self-opinion might not survive another beating, especially not from Kal, who had more right than anyone to criticize her. Her eyes stung at the thought.

"Miss Vollen?" Jue said with a hint of impatience. "What is your message?"

"N-never mind," Ny mumbled and looked down at the floor.

 _Would Kal even care what happened to me?_ She wondered, _probably not._ _I wasn't really a part of Kyrimorut anyway._ She thought back to her bare room. _I never belonged there,_ she admitted to herself. Everyone there was united by a goal, to better the lives of the clones and restore their life-span. Everyone there was dedicated to that pursuit. _And I'm not,_ Ny sighed. _Maybe Sayne was right; I'm not like them._

Ny turned and followed the Captain to the airlock. The _Cornucopia_ was the last thing she had in the galaxy and this was her chance to get it back. If she didn't, Ny wasn't sure where she'd go or what she'd do. She would be truly lost.

.

Author's Note: And that's where I'm leaving that. Muwahahahaha. No. Actually the chapter just got to long. This is another one that used to be one chapter and now… it is two. Because I can't write 10,000 words in a week. –Em.


	19. Chapter 19

Author's Note: AND NOW… ACTION! After that last very dialogue/contemplation heavy chapter it should be a relief. Enjoy. –Em

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 **Chapter 19: Allies**

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 _Shard_ dropped out of hyperspace on the edge of the edge of the Catharia system. Everyone on board felt the slight shudder and heard the hyperdrive cut off. Sayne stood up restlessly. Ventress stopped her pacing immediately. Ny looked up, her ears perked for the sound of alarms or warnings. Ahsoka clicked on her comm.

"Jeu?" She said into it.

"We have arrived," Jeu narrated from the cockpit, "ITA Helio Transport bearing 71.9. The _Cornucopia_ has docked with the Transport. Hailing."

There was a tense moment of silence over the comm while they waited for the Imperial Transport Authority ship to respond. The three passengers moved unconsciously closer to Ahsoka to hear what came next.

" _Unidentified Togruti Freighter this is ITA Patrol 44 Gamma, state your business."_

 _"_ ITA Patrol this is _Shard_ ," Jeu replied. "Requesting permission to dock and transfer fugitive stowaways."

" _Denied. We're in the middle of something at the moment."_

"Article 1189, subsection 12, states that the Imperial Transport Authority must accept stowaways from commercial transports when requested and process them for misdemeanor trespassing."

" _Don't quote the regs at us,_ Shard." The ITA officer snapped back. " _If you want them gone that bad, wait your turn."_

"I'm on a schedule. You have two docking ports. Commencing docking."

Ahsoka felt Shard lurch under her feet as it moved toward the ITA Helio.

" _Stay where you are_ Shard," the ITA officer yelled.

"Firing on an unarmed Commerical vehicle displaying no hostilities is a major offence, officer," Jue replied. "Your Patrol was 44 Gamma, correct? I will make sure to file a report on your behavior. You decide if it will be favorable or not." Jue's voice was so deadpan serious it wasn't even taunting. The ship didn't slow down and they weren't blasted out of the sky so things were going to plan so far.

" _Dock at the starboard airlock,_ Shard. _Remain on your ship. We will come aboard and take custody of your stowaways when our other business is complete."_

"Much appreciated, Patrol 44 Gamma," Jeu replied and clicked off the transceiver.

"We are making our approach," the Slicer told Ahsoka. That meant they were close enough the Helio couldn't risk firing on them; the plasma cannons would do as much damage to them as they would _Shard_ at this distance.

"Doesn't sound like they're going to make it easy for us though," Ahsoka said. "We'll have to break through their airlock doors from our side."

"I assume you have the tool for that," Ventress drawled, with a note of resentment. She still blamed Ahsoka for the loss of her lightsabers on Coruscant.

Ahsoka drew the Jedi weapon from the hidden holster under the folds of her skirt and sash. It was heavy and still familiar in her hand. Just holding it gave her comfort and security. It had seen her through more battles than she cared to count.

"Is everyone clear on the plan?" Sayne asked, as he ejected the powerpack of his blaster to check the contacts.

"Humf," Ventress huffed.

"Got it," Ny said and hoisted the bag Jeu had given her onto her back.

"Stay close to me until we've located your ship," Ahsoka said to her and the pilot nodded.

 _She's surprisingly calm for just a freighter pilot,_ Ahsoka thought. She didn't have long to ponder though. _Shard_ jolted as it docked with the ITA Helio Transport. Just past the airlock to their right they heard the dull reverberations of metal hitting metal in empty space—without air there were no high pitched clanging noises.

"Docked," Jeu said over Ahsoka's comm.

"This is it," Ahsoka hit the controls and their airlock opened to reveal the smooth gray doors of the Helio. She didn't hesitate to ignite her lightsaber and plunge it into the door. The superheated blade melted the metal like it was wax, leaving a glowing molten trail. She swung her blade as far as her arms could reach and as soon as the circular trail was complete the piece of heavy metal shot backward into the Helio shuttle with Ventress' Force push. Alarms immediately sounded, echoing in the confined spaces. Ahsoka drew one DC-17 and held her lightsaber in the other hand. She jumped through the opening first, Sayne was on her heels followed by Ventress and Ny scrambled through last with the pack.

"Halt!" The first Stormtrooper yelled as he rounded the corner. He didn't get a chance to even raise his weapon before Ventress took him down. More troops followed the first, ducking back and forth around the corner to fire at the intruders. Sayne shot back calmly while Ahsoka batted away the few well-aimed blast that came their way. With a cry, one after another, they fell.

"Move!" Ahsoka ordered and lead the way to the junction. Ventress covered one direction while she took the other. Ahsoka spotted a control panel and made a dash for it. She punched the controls quickly and a heavy emergency door slammed behind them, cutting off _Shard_ from the ITA Helio.

"Jeu," Ahsoka said into her comm, "we're in. See you at the RV."

"Copy," Jeu replied at the same time Stormtroopers rounded the corner and fired at Ahsoka. She raised her lightsaber and batted away the first volley. Over the sound of the ricocheting plasma bolts there was a loud grinding squeal of metal wrenching out of shape. The Helio Transport lurched as _Shard_ forcibly pulled free of the docking clamp. The plasma cannons fired with solid _whump_ sounds a handful of times then fell silent as they lost their target.

"Ny!" Ahsoka yelled. At her call the gray-haired pilot, ducked her head and ran across the hall to join the Captain at the terminal. Ny dug frantically in the bag and pulled out a metal rod with different bands of circuitry. She shoved the spike into the port quickly. The Stormtroopers at the end of the hall paused to reload, and Ahsoka took them out with three well-placed blasts from her DC. Ventress was holding off troops at the other end of the hall with Sayne.

Ny dug out the datapadd Jeu had given her and smacked the side of it impatiently. The device crackled to life and showed her the Helio's systems loading onto the portable device.

"I'm in," she told the Jedi.

"Time to move," Ahsoka acknowledged. Ventress and Sayne backed to their position, keeping up cover fire toward their end of the hall until Ahsoka reached the far bend of the corridor and began blasting past them. The cop and Bounty Hunter made a dash for the corner with blaster bolts scorching the walls behind them.

"I've found Djela," Ny said, pressed to the wall of the corridor with the datapad. Ventress snatched it from her hands roughly and read the operations log.

"They were taking him to the communication center," Ventress said, passing the device to Ahsoka. "I'll get what I came for and meet you at the old hag's ship." Without waiting for permission or reply, the Bounty Hunter set off at a sprint through the grey maze, her long legs taking her out of sight in seconds.

"They took Katooni to the detention block," Ahsoka said, reading the log for herself.

 _So that's the child's name,_ Ny thought and accepted the pad back.

"Which way?" Sanye asked.

"We retake the ship first," Ahsoka said, her tone broached no argument. She set off down the hall with her lightsaber raised before her and the DC pointed at the floor. Sayne followed her growling in frustration and Ny trailed behind.

"See if you can delete your ship from the ITA system while you have access," Ahsoka said to Ny. "That will—" whatever she was going to say was cut off by the _bzapp, bzapp_ of blaster fire.

The Jedi turned around and fired back with deadly accuracy, dropping the troopers. Ny looked at the sprawled bodies in reminiscent white armor. She tried not to think of all the boys she knew who had worn armor not so different at one time. She swallowed bile. _Jedi really are scary,_ she thought and followed the Captain.

Sayne turned the corner to the airlock first and took out the first guard before he had a chance to return fire. Ny caught a glimpse of the familiar interior of her ship at the end of the short hall. Ahsoka dove and rolled into the center of the corridor, coming up with her blaster raised and put a bolt through the second guard's helmet.

"Come on," she called the other two forward, but at the same moment two stormtroopers ran into _Cornucopia's_ airlock. Sayne and Ny skidded to a stop beside Ahsoka, completely exposed.

"Intruders!" One trooper yelled in a familiar voice and they both reached for their holstered weapons.

Ahsoka threw her hands up and pushed with the Force, throwing the two troopers off their feet like an explosion had hit their chests and slamming them into the far wall of Cornucopia's cargo bay. The troopers collapsed where they fell, completely still.

Ny, Sayne, and Ahsoka dashed into the warmer, if rustier, interior of Cornucopia. Just the familiar smell of the ship was comforting to Ny. Pounding boots on the decking made Ny turn to the port into the crew quarters as a white armored figure filled the hole.

"Intruders? Where?" The trooper cried. For a second Ny could have sworn it was Fi calling out to her. "Sarge!" The trooper saw his collapsed comrades and called out in alarm. He fumbled for his weapon in the narrow hallway he was trapped in. Sayne was faster. He fired one well aimed shot that hit the trooper in the side.

The trooper cried out in pain, clutching the burned and blackened plastoid. Ny reacted on instinct and dove for Sayne's arm. She dragged his aim down to the floor, away from the injured clone.

"Get off me!" the bigger man threw Ny off easily.

"NO!" She cried and jumped up, stumbling to put herself between Sayne and the trooper. Ny had barely gained her feet before the Captain's thin but strong hand gripped her arm and spun her around. Her green-glowing blade easily deflected the injured Stormtrooper's retaliatory shots. She lifted a hand before he could release another volley and the weapon was wrenched out of his grip, slickened by his own blood, and flew into the Jedi's hand.

"Are you insane?" Sayne screamed at Ny, but she was looking at the clone trooper as he collapsed in the hallway of her quarters. "He would have killed you! What the _frak_ is your problem?"

"Enough!" The Captain snapped and spun on Sayne. "Watch the airlock," She ordered him, meeting his furious gaze with her own calm blue eyes, her small, stubborn chin set.

"Yes, sir," Sayne hissed and marched back to the airlock.

Ahsoka threw a look at the old woman before turning her attention to the injured trooper. She approached him slowly, her lightsaber still ignited but she put his captured blaster down on the ground.

" _Take off your helmet, trooper,_ " Ahsoka said softly. Ny couldn't hear anything different in her voice but the air felt like it was vibrating around the Jedi and she shivered involuntarily. To her surprise the trooper took off his helmet without argument, his glove leaving red smudges where he gripped it.

The face underneath was heart-wrenchingly familiar and tense with pain. The clone looked back at Ahsoka with wide dark eyes and trembling lips. He was heaving in each breath and sweating bullets.

" _You will comm the detention level,"_ Ahsoka told him, one hand raised, palm toward the clone as she passed it slowly in front of him.

"I—I will…" the clone said unwillingly, stumbling and gritting his teeth. But his will wasn't as strong as the clones Ny knew and the pain was weakening him. "I will comm the detention level."

" _You will tell them there has been a mistake. The cargo is not what Djela Kur said it was. You will tell them to return it immediately."_

The trooper raised one trembling arm and turned on his comm. "IT-9/77351 to detention operator."

 _"_ _Go ahead,"_ a scratchy voice answered.

"Outlander scum lied to us; the girl isn't a Jedi. Have her sent back here."

 _"_ _Haven't you heard the alarms? We've been boarded!"_

 _"_ _The intruders are in custody,"_ Ahsoka whispered.

"The intruders are in custody. Should arrive with you any minute. You'll need the cells free."

 _"_ _Copy that, 51,"_ the detention operator replied with a disappointed sigh. _"That didn't last long."_

The trooper dropped his arm when the comm call ended and his head fell back against the wall exhaustedly. He gasped raggedly and his face contorted in shame and frustration.

"You're gonna be alright, Soldier," Ahsoka said and waved her hand one last time. " _Sleep."_ The clone's eyes rolled up and his eyelids dropped as he passed out on the Jedi's command.

"You ready Sayne?" The Captain stood up, and the gentle, compassionate Jedi was gone. She stalked to the other side of the airlock and reloaded her blaster calmly. "They're bringing Katooni to us."

"She had better not be harmed," Sayne growled.

"Ny," Ahsoka snapped at the pilot without turning to look at her. "Get your ship ready to take off in a hurry."

"Yes, sir," Ny said. She glanced at the unconscious, bleeding man one last time before making a dash for the pilot's chair at the front of the ship. She had the sublight engines primed and the hyperdrive booting before she heard boots from the airlock behind her. Ahsoka and Sayne didn't even get a chance to raise their blasters before the sound of shots echoed off the metal walls.

Sayne and Ahsoka dashed into the hallway, weapons drawn to see Ventress standing over two fallen troopers and dragging a struggling Ilothorian in binders. Beside the fallen troopers, the carbonite frame hovered on it's repulsors with the small girl's profile protruding from the gray block.

"Kat!" Sayne dashed forward, hurriedly inspecting the frame and the child frozen within it.

"Get her onboard," Ahsoka told him, then said to the Bounty Hunter, "I see you got your man."

"This _sleemo_ has caused me enough trouble," Ventress replied shoving her captive onto Ny's ship. "I intend to get paid for it."

"They're stealing the ship!" One Stormtrooper yelled as a squad rounded the corner and opened fire. Ventress spun and shot back while Ahsoka made a dash for the door controls, protecting herself with her lightsaber.

A buzzing sound started just beyond the airlock walls and the Cornucopia jolted. At the same time the door controls froze up on the panel at Ahsoka's fingertips.

" _Shab!_ " Ny's yelled curse came from the front of the ship. "They've got a mag-clamp on us."

"At least this crate isn't big enough for a tractor beam," Ahsoka said to herself. She pulled out her shoto and tossed it to Ventress. The Bounty Hunter caught it with an expression of bafflement.

"We're cutting free then," Ventress said.

"Looks like it," Ahsoka replied and sent a few ricochet blaster bolts back down the hall to drive the stormtroopers around the corner. "Cut the power conduits."

"I know," Ventress said exasperatedly and ignited the shoto.

"Now!" Ahsoka cried and they both plunged the blades into the largest junctions of the docking clamp. The buzzing sound cut off.

"Where's our backup?" Stormtrooper yelled into his comm at the far end of the hall.

"Time to go," Ventress said, clearly thinking the same thing Ahsoka was. They dashed for the Cornucopia, batting away the last few shots. Sayne was waiting by the freighter's airlock doors to slam them shut. Ahsoka pulled out a detonator and pressed it firmly. There was no resulting explosion, but she hadn't expected one. Ahsoka grabbed the datapad Ny had discarded with the bag, Jeu had given her. The screen showed running error codes that dissolved into static. Ahsoka smiled. There would be no digital trail of their presence there.

Ny saw the pressurization check flash green and didn't hesitate to blast the engines. The wrenching sound of metal was almost physically painful for her. She hated to treat her ship so roughly. But Cornucoipa was built of strong stuff, stronger than the ITA Helio at least. The docking clamp failed with the rushing sound of air being sucked into empty space. Ny heard a few muffled screams through the closed airlock before the cries were lost to the soundless void. _I'm sorry, Kal,_ she thought to him with a painful stone in her gut. She didn't know how many of the troopers in the hall, who were now floating in empty space, had been clones, but even just one would sadden Kal.

Cornucoipa shot away from the ITA transport. Ny evaded the few poorly aimed plasma cannon shots that came her way. The Navi-computer beeped and she slammed down the lever, catapulting them into hysperspace. Ny stared at the flashing lights for a long moment before she believed it.

 _We made it,_ she though. _We got away. I'm home._ She ran her hands lovingly over the arms of her chair. But something still felt missing. Ny turned the chair to look back at her passengers: a Jedi, a Bounty Hunter, a criminal, a former Cop, a child frozen in carbonite, and three clone troopers. It was definitely the strangest group of people she'd ever had onboard, that included Mandos and old Kaminoan Jedi.

 _This isn't over yet,_ Ny thought exhaustedly.

.

The Carbonite frame hissed and steamed as it released the child frozen within it. Sayne stood as close as the noxious smoke would allow, his hands clasping and unclasping nervously. Ahsoka came up to his side and put a hand on his shoulder. A small cough came from the cloud and became a gasping breath. Sayne dashed forward to catch the staggering form of the child that came out of it. She collapsed into his arms and they both sunk to the ground.

"Katooni? Kat?" Sayne called to her, cradling her head.

"Sayne?" the little girl asked and coughed again. "Where are we?" She asked in a hoarse voice. "I'm thirsty."

Sayne chuckled shakily in response.

"You're safe," Ahsoka said, coming up behind him and smiling down at the former Padewan.

"P-padewan T—" Sayne gently put a finger over Katooni's lips and shook his head.

"Oh," she said and beamed a beautiful smile. "I'm glad you're alive," she told Ahsoka.

"You too, young-one," Ahsoka said. Katooni nodded tiredly and leaned closer to Sayne's warmth. He wrapped his arms more tightly around her small shoulder and placed a kiss on her forehead. Sayne turned to smile gratefully up at Ahsoka.

"Thank you," he said fervently.

"You're welcome," Ahsoka said, bowing in Jedi fashion. "I'll see if I can't find someplace for her to rest a while." She backed away from the small family, feeling like an intruder. Sayne put his chin on Katooni's headdress, his eyes closed and his expression peaceful.

Ahsoka turned around to find Ventress nudging one of the unconscious troopers crumpled against the walls of Cornucopia's hull. _I have to deal with them first,_ she thought without any enthusiasm. It had been hard enough not to see the men she had once considered friends in the clone she had mind controlled. To her surprise, his mind felt different from any clone she'd ever met. He felt so much younger than the clones she had worked with. There was less knowledge in his mind, less doubt, less emotion in general. The strongest sense she got from the strange clone was confusion. The entire world seemed to confuse him. It made manipulating his mind laughably easy compared to the time she'd tried influencing one of her own men that way.

"They aren't dead you know?" Ventress said, rolling one of the armored men over with her foot.

"I know," Ahsoka replied.

"Are you going to finish the job or do you still not have the stomach for that kind of thing?" Ventress tested her.

Ahsoka crouched beside the man at the Bounty Hunter's feet. She gently removed the man's helmet, careful to release all the seals that kept it on so she wouldn't hurt him. Like she expected, he had the same familiar face. Like the clone she had mind controlled, his face was unscarred and smooth, paler than most clones, like he'd rarely seen the sun. Also like the other clone, his mind was dominated by confusion and oddly empty when she probed it.

"Don't you think you've killed enough clones?" Ahsoka asked Ventress stalling. She dug in the clone's utility belt for binders. It seemed a bit cruel to tie the man up with his own restraints but it was kinder than killing him. The second clone she un-helmeted had a weather-beaten face and a constellation of shrapnel scars on his cheek, trailing down his neck and under his bodysuit. His mind was teeming and overflowing with knowledge. Where the other two were simple, he was complex. There were doubts, fears, grief, and anger in him that shaped him into a unique personality. Ahsoka bound him like his brother.

"What are you going to do with them?" Ventress asked as Ahsoka moved to the unconscious, injured man in the hallway. She wasn't sure if she was relieved or troubled that the man was still alive. The blast had melted his armor and bodysuit. The melted armor itself seemed to have covered the wound and prevented him from bleeding out. Ahsoka frowned at the mess of melted plastoid and burned flesh, wrinkling her nose at the stench. It always reminded her of Shili.

"Help me move him," Ahsoka said to Ventress, stepping over the unconscious clone.

"Why?"

"Because he's blocking the hallway," Ahsoka said exasperatedly. Ventress rolled her eyes but bent down to take the stormtrooper's shoulders. Ahsoka lifted his legs and together they moved him into the cargo bay beside his brothers. Ventress backed away inspecting her hands for blood or some other filth.

"Is he alive?" Ny's voice behind her made the Jedi turn and glance up. Ny had her hands clasped and her gaze focused on the clone's face.

"For now. I'll see what I can do about his injury," Ahsoka told the pilot, and she relaxed a little.

"I don't know why you're bothering," Ventress drawled. Ahsoka staunchly ignored her.

The Jedi set to work, using supplies from the man's utility belt, cleaning and disinfecting the wound as best she could. Even after she managed to remove the armor around the affected area she could see globules of the melted plastoid in the carnage. She didn't have a good way of removing them and suspected doing so might cause more damage. If she did, the man might bleed out. If she didn't he might develop sepsis and die from blood poisoning. She took the option that gave her the most time to find better help.

 _Then what?_ She asked herself. She hadn't really meant to take three clone troopers captive. The idea of killing them still unsettled her. Even if the clones of the current 501st had betrayed her, there were many—maybe hundreds—that she had fought beside as their Commander and mourned for when they gave their lives on the battlefield. She couldn't think that those men might have betrayed her too when they had followed her loyally to their deaths.

The weathered and scarred clone awoke as she was bandaging his injured brother. He started and struggled against his bonds for a moment, jerking awake with a rush of adrenaline. Ahsoka looked up from her work and watched him awkwardly struggling to his knees while his ankles and wrists were bound. The clone looked around, taking in his brother bound on his left and his injured brother on the right. Finally his eyes rose to Ahsoka's.

He licked his dry lips and swallowed uncomfortably, but didn't speak. Ahsoka tied off the bandage on the injured clone and bound his wrists over his chest, careful that the binders wouldn't cut off circulation. When she looked back up at the only conscious clone, he was staring across the cargo-bay at the far wall resolutely, as if he were at attention not bound and kneeling.

"Is there a place the girl can rest?" Ahsoka asked Ny.

"Sure," Ny said, half her attention still on the clones, "there are bunks in the back." She pointed back to the small hallway and the puddle of blood.

"Thank you," Ahsoka said and went to tell Sayne. Ny remained watching the clones until the father passed with his daughter wrapped in his arms. Her gaze unwittingly followed Sayne's back toward the crew quarters.

 _She's lucky to have someone like him,_ Ny thought, _like Kal._ The old over-emotional Mando often had that look of tender caring when he looked at his own sons, even if they looked 25 or closer to 30 in some cases.

" _Wake_ ," the Jedi's clear voice brought Ny back to the clones on the deck of her ship.

Obediently the unconscious and uninjured clone's eyes opened and he struggled on the ground for a minute before he got awkwardly to his knees. The clone looked around, panicked, until he saw his brother sitting still and resolute beside him. The man snapped his head around to imitate the position and closed his gaping mouth tightly.

"What are your names?" Ahsoka asked the two conscious men. They remained silent. "What division are you from?" Ahsoka pressed. "Where are you deployed from?" They remained silent. The Jedi bent down before the strangely confused and unscarred clone.

"It's alright, trooper. I know you're just a shinny," She said to him, trying to remember how she used to talk to so casually with her men. "I don't have anything against you personally and I'd rather let you live, but you have to work with me a little here."

The young clone's eyes stayed focused on the far bulkhead, but his lips and chin trembled uncontrollably. Ahsoka sighed and moved on.

"You know," she said to the veteran, "there aren't many ways for this to end without you and your brothers dying." The veteran didn't even flinch. "I've known a fair number of troopers in my time as a Jedi. I want to believe that some of those men would have done the right thing, if they'd had the chance. Maybe you would to," she looked closely at his face. _Please answer me,_ she willed. _Tell me why you and your brothers did this to the Jedi? Why was it so easy for you? Why was it so compelling for him?_

But the veteran remained still and quiet, not even a muscle twitched in his face. She could feel a distance when she brushed against his mind in the Force. He was well trained against Jedi mind-tricks like the soldiers Ahsoka had known.

"I'll break him," Ventress said arrogantly advancing from where she'd taken up leaning against the wall.

"No!" Ahsoka turned to glare at her former enemy with a look that said _back off._ Ventress just shrugged.

"Have it your way," she returned to leaning against the wall where she could keep one eye on her prize cowering in the corner. "He already knows how this is going to go. Do the kind thing and put them out of their misery now."

The shinny sniffed, the sound was loud in the silence. Ahsoka looked at his shaking shoulders and the tension in his clenched jaw. She'd seen separatists execute captive clones before. None of them had ever looked as terrified as this young shinny. _Maybe they just hid it better_ , Ahsoka thought. All beings feared death after all.

"There are other solutions," Ahsoka bluffed and stood up wearily. Sayne came back out of the crew quarters and threw her a questioning look. Ahsoka could only shake her head. She walked away, thinking. _Maybe Organa would know what to do. Some of the rebel cells must have captured Empire troops at some point. What do they do with them? I can't just execute these men. They didn't sign up for this—they were bred for it._

The cynical part of her brain said, _yes, they were bred to fight and die. It's all they were ever meant for—ever capable of. What life could they have even if you could let them go? They would go back to the Empire to be wasted like droids because they don't know anything else. They all go back. Even Rex._ Ahsoka flinched against the memories of Shili that were already at the forefront of her mind. Her shoulder tingled painfully.

" _Su'cuyi, ad'ika,_ " Ny's voice and the words that stirred old memories made Ahsoka turn. _"Ni cuyi burc'ya be ner vode."_ It took Ahsoka a moment to unscramble the words "friend" and "brothers" but she though Ny was trying to tell them they could trust her. The veteran reacted to the language, his eyes widening and his nostrils flaring. His gaze moved slowly to Ny.

With intentional deliberateness he spit on the decking at the old woman's feet.

"You can shove the Mando _poodoo_ back where it came from," the clone growled at her. Ny looked taken aback and gaped openly at the clone. His shinny brother wore almost the same expression. The veteran turned to glare at Ahsoka, his silence now broken.

"Explain it to me, Jedi. What is the right thing to do? Is it right to raise sentient beings with lies of glory to die fighting in a fabricated war? Is it right to attack the beings who created you and enslaved you with lies to a short, painful life? Explain it." He glared at Ahsoka.

"You're going to hold fourteen year old children responsible for your lot in life?" Sayne spoke up from where he was standing, almost protectively, by the entrance to the crew quarters. "How can you defend the slaughter of children?"

"That fourteen-year-old child is older than he is," Ny snapped, wheeling on the tall man. She glared at Sayne's stony expression until Ahsoka broke the silence.

"It would be right," she answered the clone in a clear voice, looking back with steady blue eyes, wishing it was Rex she could say the words to not a stranger. "Yes, it would have been right, if the Jedi were the ones who created the Clone Army and started the war. They didn't do either. The Sith lied to and used us, just like he did you. We were all slaves."

The clone veteran's glare didn't waver or soften for a second. It silently told Ahsoka what she already knew. _Nothing I say will change what he thinks now,_ she admitted to herself and turned away from the clones again. _I can't trust men like that, no one can._

"Quit playing games with our lives," the veteran snapped at her angrily.

"Shut it, clone!" Sayne yelled at him advancing on the man with his fists balled. Ny planted her feet and stood in the large man's way, looking comically dwarfed by him.

"You have what you want, leave the boy alone," Ny said firmly.

"That boy would happily shoot you and anyone else they told him to!"

"I'm sure he would if it meant protecting his brother. How many of them did you kill to get your daughter back?"

"I'm not going to loose sleep over killing scum like that."

"'Scum like that? You don't know the first thing about these men. If you did you'd know they're the kind of people you wish randomly created humans were. They don't think about themselves first. They live and die for their brothers. The Republic and the Jedi and _you_ used that to fight the war for you." _Damn, I sound like Kal,_ Ny thought.

"I never agreed to have a clone army fight for my people. We wanted nothing to do with the war."

"It didn't affect you," Ny mocked him. "So you did nothing. You could have done something about their suffering and you didn't. What does that make you, Sayne?" She laughed dryly. "The very thing you hate! I may be a self-serving old hag, but at least I'm not a hypocrite too!" Ny turned on her heels and stormed away past the conflicted expression of the veteran clone, the open confusion of the shinny and the Jedi's wide eyed look of approving amazement.

"You just wait, Nyreen Vollen," Sayne growled after her. "Wait until they try to kill you once or twice, and then tell me how good and virtuous they are. They're killing machines—not men." He disappeared back into the crew quarters with a last glare at the clones.

"I kind of like him," Ventress said from her spot near the corner. Ahsoka threw her an unamused look and followed Ny to the front of the ship.

"What are you going to do with those men?" Ny asked softly, when the Jedi joined her beside the helm. Ahsoka noted that Ny called them men or boys, not troopers, soldiers, or clones.

"I'm asking myself that same thing right now," Ahsoka said with a heavy sigh. She studied the short grey-haired pilot more closely than she had before. Somehow she'd missed a very perplexing part of Nyreen Vollen.

"How did you know some of the clones were Mandalorian?" Ahsoka asked.

"What?"

"That language, I recognized it. Some of the clones I served with during the war spoke it. It's _mando'a_ : Mandalorian."

"Yeah," Ny nodded, looking at the floor and wringing her hands again. "I know some clones, ones who left the Republic before it became the Empire. They're all pretty… mando."

"They were deserters?" Ahsoka asked curiously. She'd heard of at least one clone who turned traitor but not many deserters, and none by name.

"They'd probably call it retiring, but yes. They felt they'd done their duty and… they wanted another life." The old woman looked over her shoulder again at the clones on the floor of her ship. "They're good boys," she said softly and hesitantly met Ahsoka's gaze. She was relieved to see acceptance, perhaps even hope, in the Jedi's expression, not judgment or anger.

"Did they find it?" Ahsoka asked, "another life?"

Ny thought of Ordo's self-conscious and flustered announcement of Besany's pregnancy, the proud smile on Levet's face when he could bring food to the table from his farm, and Darman bouncing Kad on his knee by the fire.

"Yeah, they did."

"Do you think those boys could too?" Ahsoka asked, half to herself.

"I've found that clones are… surprisingly adaptable," Ny said, studying the Jedi's expression of wistfulness and something remorseful. "If they have a chance… it's there."

"And they would be away from the Empire?" Ahsoka asked.

"They'd be cut off from pretty much everything," Ny assured her. "I know the man who created the place. He'd be happy to have a few more boys around."

"Does he know what he's signing up for?" Ahsoka asked skeptically and Ny chuckled.

 _Any man who could raise six of the craziest, scariest Jango clones can deal with these three—even the mando-hater,_ Ny thought.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure he does."

"Sounds like an interesting guy," Ahsoka muttered. She sat down exhaustedly in the passenger seat. She tried to imagine what kind of lives the clones could have away from the Empire. She couldn't help but remember Rex descending the ramp of the diplomatic shuttle proudly with Jaina at his side. He looked totally at ease and content with his new life of freedom. _But he chose to go back,_ Ahsoka reminded herself. Part of her held onto the fantasy that Ny described. It would be too easy to leave the clones with the old pilot. Considering Ny's last passenger had stranded her and stolen her ship, Ahsoka wouldn't feel comfortable leaving three bred and trained soldiers on the freighter—even if they were tied up.

Ny was thinking the same thing, forcing herself to look at the nav controls instead of the clones. _You could take them to Kal,_ she thought to herself. _You were planning on going back before. Maybe he'll be distracted by them, and we can put the argument behind us. Rescuing three of his boys is worth that, right?_ As soon as the thought crossed her mind she remembered Sayne's harsh words:

 _"…_ _maybe you even do something good and selfless now and then….That just placates your own guilt so you can sleep at night."_

 _That's all I'm doing now, isn't it._ Ny thought disgustedly and balled her fists in her lap. _Bringing him a few more lost boys doesn't change who I am—it won't make me belong there._ She wasn't sure she could bear to see the place she had so desperately wanted to be home and then leave it again with that sense of finality.

Ny dug around in the compartments around the main console and got up to scour the nav-station for a clean piece of flimsy. She ripped off a piece of a customs declaration form and scribbled Kal's contact under the word _Kyrimorut_.

"Here," she shoved the scrap at the Jedi Captain. Ahsoka spun around in surprise and took the piece of paper with confusion. She flipped it open and glanced at the scrawled numbers.

" _Morut?_ That means 'a base', right?"

"I haven't a clue," Ny said honestly. "That's what they call the place. I'll warn you they're suspicious, violent as they come, and don't much like Jedi."

"I'll keep it in mind," the Captain said thoughtfully and slipped the paper into the pocket for her belt. "Thank you."

"Sure," Ny said awkwardly and sank into her chair. _It was the least I could do,_ she thought bitterly. _It doesn't make up for anything._

Ny sat silently in her chair for the rest of the short hyperspace jump trying to decide where she'd go when the Captain and the Bounty Hunter were gone. She had her livelyhood back and with her ship erased from the Empire's flagged list she could travel freely again. It still took her a few long minutes to think of even one place to plug into her nav-computer.

 _Cornucopia_ shuddered gently when the lightspeed drives shut off. The stars shrunk back into pricks of light and the bulbus shape of the Jedi's ship drifted in front of them.

 _"_ _Shard,_ this is _Cornucopia,_ " Ny hailed Jeu.

" _Copy, Cornucopia. You were successful?"_

 _"_ A little too much so," the Captain said from behind Ny. "Could you clear out the second holding cell while we dock? I think I was using it for extra storage."

" _Who are you incarcerating?_ " Jeu asked.

"Brothers," Ahsoka said wearily.

" _Is that wise?"_ The Slicer was clearly familiar with the term.

"Definitely not," Ahsoka replied and reached over to cut off the channel before Jeu could make anymore vaguely disapproving remarks. She retreated to the back of the ship to get Sayne and Katooni. The man was still glowering and sour about the clones.

"You're asking for trouble, Ahsoka," he warned her as he gathered the sleeping Katooni in his arms, cradling her under his chin protectively.

"I can't kill helpless slaves," she responded with what she hoped was Jedi calm, but her stomach was churning.

"They aren't helpless," Sayne grumbled and pushed past her. The gentle thud of the docking ports vibrated through the ship a moment later. When Ahsoka came back out into the cargo bay, Djela had realized what was happening.

"You won't really let them do this to me, Ny?" the Ilothorian babbled in his grunting language frantically at Ny's back, his large eyes shifting frantically around from face to face in the small space.

"Shut up," Ventress hissed at him.

"Ny, I was Terin's friend—he trusted me." The Ilothorian cried, "He _owed_ me. You owe me! You can't let them do this! I'm sorry about… it wasn't personal. I needed the money. Ny, I can make this right—"

Ny spun around and lashed out with her fist, catching Djela just under his curved head between the two mouthes on either side of his neck. The Ilothorian cried out and trembled in pain, stumbling.

"You can't make this right, Djela. And don't ever talk about my old man," Ny said, standing over the hunched creature. "I don't owe you a _karking dungheap!_ " She turned away marched back to her pilot's chair.

"Hum," Ventress hummed softly. "So the old woman does have some spine after all," Ahsoka heard her say softly.

"Move it, scum. Your friend Bedjiim is waiting for us with my fee. I hear his accomodations are top notch."

"I've seen them," Ahsoka agreed. "They certainly are. I guess you need a ride back there?"

"I can find my own way."

"Consider it repayment for Coruscant."

"You held up your end of the deal."

"You lost your lightsabers. I owe you for that."

Ventress considered the Jedi she'd once considered a pitiful excuse for an enemy.

"Even his bounty wouldn't cover that cost," Ventress said smoothly. "But it's a start." She took hold of the Ilothorian's shoulder hard enough to bruise and pushed him through the airlock. Ahsoka and Jeu led the troopers off the ship, Ahsoka holding the injured man aloft with the Force.

Ny was still running through the list of possible destinations before her when she closed the airlock without a final goodbye to the crew and passengers of _Shard._ She was happy to see the Bounty Hunter and her charge gone and relieved to be out from under Sayne's accusing glare. The Jedi Captain wasn't so bad. _I think I prefer the company of Mandos_ , Ny admitted to herself. She sighed and looked around the empty hold of her ship.

The console beeped telling her she was being hailed. Ny flicked open the comm channel.

" _It was good working with you, Nyreen Vollen,_ " the Captain said over the open frequency. _"And thank you for the information."_

"Are you planning to use it?" Ny couldn't help but ask.

 _"_ _That may not be up to me,_ " the Captain replied, _"but it's good to know there's another option. Stay safe."_

"You too, _Cornucopia_ out," Ny said and cut the channel. She watched through the viewscreen as the Slicer's little shuttle detached from Shard's underside docking port and shot into hyperspace. A moment later Shard disintegrated into a beam of light and disappeared.

Ny stared at where it used to be. She was truly alone. Not another being for light-years in any direction. Ny shivered. She turned to the navi-computer and input the first destination that came to mind. The second the computer finished calculations she punched the leaver and sat back for the long trip to Hanath.

.

Author's Note: So really just one very long extended scene this chapter. It didn't seem like the kind of thing I should break up. So the Ahsoka-Ny-Ventress Arc as I have been calling it is drawing to a close and Rex is nearing his goal so Part II should be ending soon… as soon as I get over the MAJOR case of writers block I have.

As always, please leave a review. I'm always open to help, suggestions, ideas for more side-plots (like I don't have enough of those) or names for those three poor clones. –Em.


	20. Chapter 20

Author's Note: Wow, so I meant to have this chapter and the following one up weeks ago. But then my life kind of got insane and then I rewrote large sections and reorganized it. So... It was delayed. Anyway. Now you get a DOUBLE CHAPTER! And I will finally explain what I'm doing with the chips. I hope you enjoy it. -Em

.

 **Chapter 20: Parting**

.

 _two and a half years prior_

.

Rex was exactly where Ahsoka thought he would be, beside the transport going over his gear one last time. It was strange to see him dressed in civilian clothes, even if he still stood with the ramrod posture of a soldier. He hadn't been too thrilled about leaving his usual kit behind, but going behind enemy lines to assist the Onderon rebels was a different kind of battlefield. Ahsoka could feel his unease about the mission, echoing her own.

"Hey Rexter," Ahsoka greeted him casually. His head jerked up sharply and he pinned her with a suspicious look.

"You're early," he stated.

"I'm early sometimes."

Rex continued to stare at her suspiciously and Ahsoka fidgeted with her bracers before she could stop herself. Rex's gaze zeroed in on the nervous movement.

"Alright," Ahsoka threw her hands up, "go ahead and say what you're gonna say."

"Are you capable of this mission, Commander?"

"What? Of course I am! I mean, I've never done anything like this but I'll have Master Skywalker and Master Kenobi. I mean, how hard can it be?" From the deepening of his frown, he didn't buy her false assurance. Ahsoka sighed heavily and wrapped her arms over her chest, holding her elbows.

"Lux Bonteri is there," Rex stated. She had told him about her disastrous visit to Carlac with the Separatist Senator's son.

"Yeah," Ahsoka mumbled and looked at the ground.

"Are you worried about what he might do?" Rex asked.

Ahsoka glanced up with wide blue eyes, her chin down and her lips pressed together tightly.

"Or what you might do?" He asked, and Ahsoka looked down again.

"I don't know. I mean," she glanced around the flight deck furtively, "Master Skywalker is always telling me to be 'mindful of my feelings' but then not to 'be controlled by my emotions'. I mean, that's why the Jedi aren't allowed attachments. But he isn't exactly… impartial when Senator Amidala is in trouble. How will I know what feelings I'm supposed to listen to."

"You think you will act the same way around Bonteri, the General does around the Senator?"

"How else do you explain what happened on Carlac? I let him get the drop on me _and_ I didn't drag him back to Mandalore—lightsabers or no lightsabers."

"You succeeded in protecting the indigenous people from the Death Watch and rescued Bonteri from two attempts on his life."

"Yes but…"

"You will make the right decisions—whatever your feelings for this boy."

"How do you know?" She insisted.

"Because you are asking me about it right now. If you think your emotions for him are affecting you, consider what you'd do if it was me or another trooper in his place."

"Rex…" Ahsoka sighed. "It's not that easy."

"I know," he said in a clipped tone. Before she could pin him with a curious look, Rex stood up quickly and shouldered his pack, snapping immediately to attention.

"Generals," he said sharply and Ahsoka turned to see Anakin and Obi-Wan making their way to the transport. She never got the chance to ask him what he had meant by that statement.

.

 _two and a half years later_

.

Rex's HUD led him to an unmarked doorway. It was identical to the other doors on the long nondescript hallway. The hallway itself was identical to the hallways above and below for ten levels in each direction. The entire building was empty for renovation, which made it an ideal place to hide a clandestine laboratory. There was enough space to house a guard of troopers, their small fortune of armaments, and the equipment they needed.

Rex readjusted his grip on his new, unfamiliar blaster. It felt too light and flimsy in his hands. On the forward grip the name "Jan" was scratched into the paint. Rex missed the solid weight of his DC-15s, the only weapons that had been his, not property of the Republic. They were probably discarded somewhere on Shili, where Ahsoka dropped them.

Rex had barely paused before the door before it opened. A mongrel trooper stood casually on the other side. Rex saw the chin of his helmet dip as the man looked him up and down.

"So you're the new guy," he said. Rex snapped to attention in his good-trooper-act.

"Private IS-7567 reporting, sir." He threw in the 'sir' for good measure.

"Come on in," the mongrel sighed, "and try not to puke in your helmet."

 _I'm no shinny,_ Rex wanted to quip back, but it didn't fit his obedient-drone-act. He passed through two sets of doors into a large white laboratory. The walls were hung with rigid white sheeting and the floor was sloped to a central drain. A ring of folded mechanical arms was mounted directly above the drain. Lab counters of pale stone ran along each wall. One side of the lab was dominated by a row of transpariseal vats and in the center of the room was a gurney with its restraining straps hanging loose from the sides. Rex swallowed thickly; it was the laboratory from his nightmares.

Rex took his position beside the door across from his partner. It was a few minutes before he heard footsteps in the hall. The doors opened for troopers escorting a bound and gagged prisoner. He struggling weakly between them followed by a tall droid with an oblong head and long manipulator arms. It rolled on a platform of small wheels, quickly speeding around the room. The stormtroopers secured their prisoner to the gurney. He was a tall, pale, plain looking human emaciated and exhausted from captivity. He was too weak to fight back, but his face was set in determined defiance and his muffled protests were loud in the silent laboratory.

Without a word the other Stormtroopers left and the doors swung shut behind them. The droid buzzed around the room moving equipment and containers in an ordered frenzy of multi-jointed arms. It hooked the prisoner up to a variety of monitoring devices that displayed a stream of meaningless shifting numbers and lines.

The side door opened from a small office and a dark skinned woman in a long white coat shuffled into the lab. Doctor Tahmina Orsa looked more exhausted than ever, with heavy shadows making sunken half-moons on her shallow cheeks.

"The subject is prepared, mistress," the droid said in a vaguely female voice.

"Thank you, ZeeNine," Orsa said hollowly. Like she was sleepwalking, she crossed the lab to a refrigerated transpari steel cabinet of small bottles. The prisoner watched her with wide eyes and panted in his panic. She chose one and injected the clear liquid into the prisoner. He struggled against his bonds and tried to shake off her firm grip. Rex shuddered at the memory of those cold fingers and Orsa's firm grip. She didn't look up at her prisoner, meet his eyes, or speak to him. The drug acted quickly. The prisoner's eyes drooped into half-lidded listlessness and his breathing slowed. He went limp in his bonds.

With an impassive face Doctor Orsa monitored the prisoner through her machines and dictated notes to the droid, Z9. Rex hardly recognized her speech as Basic, it was riddled with numbers, codes, and formulas.

 _I don't know why the mongrel was worried I'd be sick,_ Rex thought after the first two hours, _I've seen a needle before._

An hour later the Doctor sat down on a high stool and said casually over her shoulder, "Begin harvesting."

The droid buzzed into frantic activity. It hooked up a machine to the man's leg with long clear tubes. The tubes filled with sluggish, bright red liquid that ran through the whirring machine and then down another clear tube back into the prisoner's leg.

The machine ran for an hour, then beeped sharply and fell silent, the last of the red liquid draining down the tube back into the prisoner strapped to the gurney.

"We have sufficient material," the droid declared.

"Thank you, ZeeNine," Orsa said over her shoulder without looking up from her datapad. "Begin generating the bio-mater."

"Yes, mistress," the droid said. It pulled a vial of gelatinous liquid from the machine and buzzed away to a far wall of transparisteal vats. The longer Rex looked at them, the more familiar they seemed. The droid turned them on and they filled with liquid fed by a multitude of tubes. Rex realized with a sickening jolt why they were familiar. They were an altered and miniaturized form of the cloning vats Kaminoans used to grow the clone army. He had seen thousands of them as a child. His stomach flopped uncomfortably, and he forced himself to look away.

Rex was immensely grateful when he was relieved for lunch break, but he couldn't stomach food. It wasn't just them memory of the glowing vats that soured his apatite. The old guard sat in a huddled group at one end of the cafeteria table, shooting suspicious or blatantly hostile looks at the new recruits. Rex and the few mongrels that filled the vacated positions in Orsa's guard sat in complete silence, not looking at each other and trying not to look at the other end of the table. Rex was almost as relieved to return to his post and the comfortable privacy of his helmet.

Small masses had appeared suspended in the liquid of the vats when Rex returned. He repressed a shudder. Rex's shift was almost over when the droid began buzzing around the tubes, extracting the small blobs of flesh. Orsa inspected them each individually, finally choosing one and taking with her back to the prisoner's side.

"Begin the insertion process," she told ZeeNine. Without hesitation the droid went to the head of the gurney and began shaving away the prisoner's hair. Rex got a heavy feeling in his stomach that became a gaping pit when the droid backed away and the mechanical arms unfolded and dropped from the ceiling. Small sharp tipped drills and spinning saws unfolded from the arms and descended on the prisoner.

 _That's what he meant about being sick,_ Rex thought as he tried not to watch too closely as the living man's head was cut open. Rex had seen skulls cracked open before more times than he wanted to think about. The first time he'd pulled off a brother's helmet in a live fire exercise and found brain-mater spilling from it he was violently ill. He could hardly bear to eat for days and the nightmares of that first experience followed longer than other more terrifying images. It all came rushing back when the droid removed top section of the man's skull, revealing the grey organ inside.

Orsa carefully placed the red fleshy blob from her selected transparsteel slide in a strangely flat, thin syringe attached to one manipulator arm. The arm spun around on its circular track and maneuvered above the exposed brain. With a little prodding and a sharp hiss the arm ejected the fleshy blob into the prisoners brain. The man barely flinched and his face didn't give any indication he was aware of the gaping hole in his skull. The droid injected the man with another drug, removed his gag, and backed away.

"Insertion complete, mistress" the droid.

"Thank you, ZeeNine," the Doctor said. She moved her stool to the man's side and picked up a datapadd and stylus. She wrote silently paying the prisoner no mind. In a few minutes the man started to wake up. He looked around in confusion. His breathing sped up and then hitched once. He gave a soft sob and started crying silently, hanging limply in the straps restraining him. Orsa didn't look up until Z9 said, "acclimation period complete."

"Thank you, ZeeNine. Begin recording," she said and a hollo-cam lowered from the ceiling. Finally she looked up at her prisoner, and Rex saw her flinch and her hands shake.

"State your name," she read from her datapadd.

"Harther Farn-Keel," the prisoner answered, his voice defeated and miserable.

"Where were you born?"

"Raxus."

"Who is Heather Loran?"

"Part of my cell and my friend," he answered with a sob. "She led us."

"Where is she now."

"Kessel."

"Who else was part of your cell?"

Her dry questions and the prisoner's compulsive responses continued until Rex and his partner were relieved by the night-shift. The droning voice echoed in Rex's head, long after he climbed into his new bunk and forced his eyes closed. The Doctor's monotonous questions followed him into his dreams where his own head was cracked open and the mechanical arms were rearranging his brain with whirring tools, moving his memories around, changing his thoughts and cutting out bits of who he was. Rex slept in fits, jerking out of his nightmares only for exhaustion to drag him back into the white lab to the hard, cold gurney and Tahmina Orsa's off-color eyes

.

 _one year prior_

 _._

Ahsoka leaned against the balcony railing overlooking the city of Iziz from the grand palace rising at the city's heart, but her thoughts were light-years away, still on Coruscant. Her short, but eventful assignment to Senator Emala's guard had left her with a lot to think about. The short hyperspace trip from Coruscant to Onderon hadn't been nearly enough time to figure out how to explain how Captain Rex had come back into her life to the Onderon Senator.

She was sure Lux would see him as just another member of the GAR that had abandoned her, and, worse, he would question her kindness. Ahsoka wasn't sure how to make him see Rex was more than that. He had taught her how to survive, saved her life as often as she saved his, watched her back through every bad decision and foolhardy charge… Rex had been her loyal Captain first and her fast friend second.

With the ranks stripped away, for the first time, they were just friends—something she never thought possible. Like her relationship with Lux, her relationship with Rex was changed when she left the Jedi detachment behind. She wasn't the child she had been and he wasn't the rule-bound soldier she had first met. Now that he was no longer her Captain and their lives were not constantly at risk, she didn't have to fear caring for him. _Where does that leave us?_ Ahsoka wondered, looking out across the familiar city without really seeing it.

To complicate maters, she had never found the right time to tell Rex about her new relationship with Lux. It wasn't something either of them advertised, given his position and her very public history with the Jedi. She reasoned it was something she would tell a friend. But always found a reason to skip the subject. Ahsoka wanted to think it was nothing, but a nagging feeling kept her frowning at the skyline.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," Lux said, coming up behind her, a little out of breath but still managing to appear composed. Ahsoka turned, pulling herself out of thought, and forced a small smile. He stepped up to the railing beside her and she tilted her head to let him peck a kiss on her lips.

"I didn't know you'd be stopping by," he said cautiously. "Did I miss a message again?"

"No," Ahsoka said, shrugging, "I was just passing through."

"On your way back to Shili then," Lux said with a resigned sigh. Ahsoka felt her hopeful mood slip away in an instant. It seemed the first thing they talked about was always about why or when they would be separated.

"How was Coruscant?" Lux asked, pushing on to new topics. "You had to pick the one week I wasn't there of course."

"I didn't pick it," Ahsoka snapped defensively. " _I_ don't tell terrorist when to target Jaina."

"I know, Ahsoka," Lux hurriedly backtracked, "I wasn't blaming you."

She groaned softly and looked away, the tension leaving her face as quickly as it had arisen. "Forget it. I've had a stressful week."

"Did something happen?" He bent to see her face better.

"No… not exactly. I was just thinking…" Ahsoka glanced at him apprehensively. "What are we doing, Lux?" she asked him softly.

"You mean dating?" He kept his tone deliberately light and raised one eyebrow. Ahsoka frowned at him.

"I mean we see each other now and then when our work allows, but you're tied to Coruscant, and I'm bound to Shili. There are a million things we never find the time to talk about, and when we do find the time, we spend half of it fighting over…"

"Petty misunderstandings?" Lux offered.

"Exactly," Ahsoka said emphatically then sighed.

"Things are just a little crazy right now and we're both stressed. Things will get better when this war ends?"

Ahsoka gave him a dubious look with one eyebrow marking raised. Lux's optimism held out for a few moments, but he deflated with a sigh under her sharp stare.

"You're right, and I know you're right. Honestly, I've seen this coming for a while."

"Really? I… didn't. I guess I haven't had a lot of time to think about _us_ recently."

"I know. That's why I knew it was coming." Lux traced the marking on her cheek gently with his fingertips. "You're just not an easy person to say goodbye to, Ahsoka."

"I'm sorry," she said miserably.

"Me too," he said with a heavy sigh. "I'll always be your friend though," he assured her, "after everything we've been through I don't think I could be anything less, or more."

"Thank you, Lux," Ahsoka said, with a strangely incongruent sense of relief. She still cared for Lux. Like he said, she too would always be his friend after everything they had endured. A part of her was sad to leave Onderon without his usual goodbye kiss. She would miss the company and support he had given her after she left the Jedi. But another part of her was hopeful for the future. She remembered sitting in the bar with Rex joking about the oddities of politicians and the ridiculous gossip that filled the senate halls. It was something she could never have done with Lux, a senator himself. She found that she was looking forward to more moments like that.

.

 _one year later_

.

Vorpa woke up feeling stiff. It took her a minute to realize why. She'd fallen asleep in her desk chair. The sun was streaming through the high windows, telling her it was late morning. She leaned back in the uncomfortable position she'd awoken in for a long silent minute, her ears perked. The hanger beyond her door was totally silent. She frowned and sat up with a heavy sigh.

 _What do you expect?_ She asked herself. _You eavesdropped on him, pried into his life and then insulted him… again._ She rubbed hard at her stinging eyes and stood up with a groan. _No point dwelling on it,_ she thought.

But she did. She procrastinated the rest of the morning away, restlessly glancing at the door every few minutes. Finally she gave up being productive. She pulled out her _beskad_ and drilled with it till she couldn't think of anything else but the burning of her arms swinging the heavy blade and how the razor sharp _beskar_ threw blood splatters when it met flesh.

She barely heard the knock on the hanger door over her heavy breathing. She stopped still, with her back to the door, debating if it had been her imagination. The longer she waited, the less sure she was there had been any noise at all. She marched to the door to settle the mater and threw it open, fully intending to give whoever had interrupted her a terse dismissal.

A'den was leaning against the doorway. The visor of his light-orange-brown helmet reflected the bright sunlight back at her. Vorpa squinted at him, her mouth open in dumb shock. She licked her lips and said the first thing that came to her mind.

"You've never knocked before."

"You've never told me to leave before," he countered without pause. With his helmet on she couldn't judge his expression and his voice was neutral. Her heart pounded against her breastbone. She adjusted her grip on her _beskad_ nervously a few times.

 _I didn't want you to leave for good,_ she thought to him, but all she said was, "Did you bring caf?"

He laughed and held up a thermos. "Laseema's best," he promised. Vorpa bit her lip against a smile and ducked her head, stepping out of the way in silent invitation. A'den took off his helmet and stepped inside. He put a hand under her chin, lifting her face. Her grip automatically tightened on her _beskad._

"Don't hide your smile," he said, "you're beautiful when you smile." Vorpa was too shocked to respond.

 _When was the last time anyone called me beautiful?_ She wondered.

A'den dragged two empty crates together for seats and poured them cups of the steaming drink from his thermos. The smell made Vorpa realize she hadn't eaten anything all morning. She leaned her sword against her crate and accepted her cup with mumbled thanks.

For a moment they drank in silence.

"I can't stay," he said solemnly. "I came to tell you I won't be around for a while." The caf tasted suddenly sour in Vorpa's mouth.

 _Is he still angry with me? Is he just trying to break things off easy?_ She thought. _He might never come back for all I know._

"You could have commed," she said. _Save us both the trouble of an awkward goodbye; I've had enough of those._

A'den leaned across the short distance catch her bottom lip between his in a short restrained kiss.

"I couldn't say that over a comm," he said when he pulled away.

Vorpa's mind was still trying to catch up to her soaring heart. She swallowed and nodded. "Yeah, I guess so," she replied and hid behind her cup of caf. When she glanced up A'den was staring at the far wall of the hanger without seeing it.

"How are things at home?" She asked and his frown was enough of an answer. "Is that why you won't be around?" She asked him.

"Sort of," he said. "Our friend, the one who's missing, might have shown up. We're going to look for her. Prudii doesn't think there's anything to find but… I'd rather know for sure. Etain is still… She gets better and then crashes further down. Darman, her husband, refuses to give up on her. I can't tell if _Kal'buir_ is trying to prepare Dar for the inevitable or if he's hanging onto hope too. He hardly sleeps anymore, always keeping an eye on one of them."

A'den's voice hitched and he cursed under his breath. He put aside his cup and stood quickly, moving away and pressing his hands over his bright eyes. Vorpa followed him. She stood in front of him and gently pulled his hands away with a loose grip on his gauntlets. There were wet patches on the palms of his gloves.

 _"_ My mother would say, ' _Ke'haaranovo pitaai shi'meh gar copaani haaranovo ashna vurel baati',"_ she repeated words she'd been told a long time ago. _Only hide your tears if you are ashamed to have cared at all._

A'den shook his head slowly and his response was quiet and heavy.

 _"Nu'cuyi pitaai par val'aaray,"_ _I'm not crying because they're in pain,_ he said, looking at her hands around his. _"Cuyi pitaai par ner neverd'la. Ni copaani haaranovor ibac."_ _I'm crying because I'm helpless. I am ashamed of that._

Vorpa didn't know how to respond. There were no words that could change that. She dropped his hands and stepped closer to him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. Hesitantly his arms wound around her waist, pulling her slightly closer till the plates of their armor touched.

A'den forced himself not to cling to her, crush her to his chest the way he wanted to. He knew she still couldn't allow herself to be that vulnerable to him. Holding her lightly was already the closest she had let him come to her. Even when she kissed him, she always had a weapon within reach if she needed to protect herself—never letting him get the upper hand on her. But with her arms around his neck, his arms locked around her, she was as near to his mercy as she had ever been.

All too soon she pulled away and A'den let her go reluctantly. Her cheeks were deep green with her blush and it made him smile fondly. She stepped away to pick up her cup again.

"You don't talk about your mother," he said cautiously. Vorpa drained her cup and set it back on the crate. She picked up her _beskad_ and turned to look at her ship, away from him.

"I haven't talked to my mother in years," she said with repressed anger. She glanced back over her shoulder at his curious look. "She could never find it in herself to forgive me for killing my father." She answered his unspoken question. Before he could respond she cleared her throat loudly and said, "I have things to do today."

He bit back his words and gathered the thermos. He came up behind her and kissed her cheek gently.

" _Ven'urcye mhi, Vorpa." We'll meet again._

He glanced over his shoulder once as he left and she was smiling at him, her chin up and her eyes bright.

.

Iziz, the capital city of Onderon, lay spread before Ahsoka, looking gilded in the light of the setting sun. She leaned against the balcony of the royal palace heavily and frowned. Somehow she'd expected the view to be changed, but it looked the same as the first time she had seen it.

That first mission to Onderon had been one of the hardest she ever took on, for all the wrong reasons. Battle droids were a lot easier to dismantle than her-own doubts. Rex was the only person she voiced them to, just before they boarded the transport with Anakin and Obi-Wan, but he was the only she didn't feel giving her suspicious, appraising looks during the mission. He hadn't mentioned it during their time on Onderon. He also had his hands full training the ragtag recruits of the Onderon Resistance. She had kept his words of advice in mind through her mission. It surprised her how much easier it was to be objective with Lux than it was with Stella. The entire mission had been a struggle to remain unbiased and detached—and she wasn't entirely sure even years later she succeeded. The unresolved feelings she'd been fighting when she left Onderon the first time drew her back after the Order expelled her.

Ahsoka could remember feeling that he alone still had faith in her, even when she didn't have faith in herself. She would always be grateful for the support he gave her in those turbulent months before she felt ready to take the position in the Shili Royal Guard Senator Amidala had arranged for her.

Ahsoka was happy to find she could think back on her parting with Lux without the pang of guilt and shame that had kept her away after their mutual parting. Their lives were never going to be compatible, no mater the affection they felt for each other. They held together until Ahsoka ran into her old Captain in the Senate building and invited him out for a drink. She left her relationship with Lux and the city of Iziz hopeful about the future for the first time since her arrest.

That was before the war ended, before the Purge, before she went on the run and joined a rebellion. It was hard to think about that hope she had felt when her shoulder was still scarred by Rex's betrayal. Everything she had wanted back then burned the night the order went out. She realized it had been naïve of her to think she could have that kind of peaceful life, much less with him. That vapid dream had blinded her to the truth.

 _If I hadn't been fixated on that,_ she thought, _would I have seen his betrayal coming? Did I repeat the mistakes I made on Carlac with Rex? I brought him back into my life because of my emotions when I shouldn't have. I thought I had learned better than that after the Onderon Rebelion… But that was before I left the Order._

"Ahsoka?" A tentative voice drew her out of contemplation. She realized the sun had slipped below the horizon and the city was beginning to glow with it's own light. She turned to lean against the railing and smirked at her old friend.

"Hey, Lux. I thought you might be the Rebellion's contact here in Iziz?"

"Ahsoka!" His shocked expression lifted into relieved joy and he hurried forward to embrace her tightly. To her relief he didn't kiss her. "When Organa said he was sending a friend I didn't… I thought you were dead. The news said…" He said, stepping back and looking her up and down.

"It takes more than a few thousand tons of burning duracrete to keep me down," she said back with forced lightness. He chuckled a little.

"I suppose it does. I'm so glad you're alright," he put a warm hand on her shoulder, almost overtop of the scar hidden under her shirt. "There's someone else here you need to see, though."

"Lux," Ahsoka frowned, "the fewer people that know I'm alive, the better."

"Please, Ahsoka," he said with a hopeful look on his face. "It would mean a lot to her and she's a friend."

Ahsoka hesitated a moment longer. _I know I should keep myself as secret as possible but…_ the truth was, she didn't have many friends left.

"Alright," she gave in and let Lux lead her away off the balcony into the palace with a bright, excited grin.

.

Author's Note: More explanations next chapter. -Em


	21. Chapter 21

Author's Note: Things will finally be explained this chapter and Vau makes a much belated return to the story (YAY!). Thanks for sticking with me. Enjoy. -Em

.

 **Chapter 21: Fulcrum**

.

It wasn't hard to figure out what Senator Riyo Chuchi was doing on Onderon. Even though neither of them said anything, Ahsoka knew she and Lux were a couple. It was clear in the way they looked at each other, talking a silent language of understanding that no one else understood. Riyo glanced at Lux over Katooni's shoulder while she fussed over the girls new clothes and his face broke into a grin. Ahsoka leaned against the opposite side of the doorway with her old friend and studied him. The awkward and confused teenager she had met on Raxus was gone and a refined young man was in his place. Ahsoka tried not to think about what Lux saw when he looked at her, where the self-assured young Commander had once been.

"If I'd known you two would hit it off so well, I'd have introduced you myself," Ahsoka said, smirking when Lux jumped and flashed her a guilty look.

"I should have said…" he trailed off as she waved her hand at him. "I didn't want you to think that I—either of us—had forgotten you."

"Thank you, Lux. It's… good to know someone cared. I'm glad you're both happy." She looked back at Riyo and Katooni. The small Tollothian was blushing under the attention and smiling shyly.

"You're actually the reason I met Riyo. She remembered you talking about me and introduced herself. She hoped… that you were hiding with me here."

"I'm sorry for not contacting you sooner," Ahsoka said, "even before the war ended, I shouldn't have just cut you out that way."

"We both needed space," he said understandingly but his voice was tight with emotion.

"Yeah," Ahsoka nodded. _I was too busy thinking about someone who was always planning to betray me and I nearly lost a true friend._ A knock on the door made them both turn. Lux stepped back to open it.

"You must be Jeu," he said as the Slicer swayed into the room with a business case over one shoulder and a smile on her lips.

"At your service, Senator," she said with a graceful bow to him.

"Thank you for getting this done so quickly," Ahsoka said to her.

"Of course," Jeu embraced the taller togruta lightly. "It's a lot easier when the government you're trying to fool gives you all the access codes." She grinned at Lux. "Is there a place I can set up?"

"Right this way," Lux led her to the hollonet terminal, leaving Ahsoka standing in the doorway. She watched Jeu explaining the new documentation to Sayne and Katooni while Lux and Riyo stood to the side in quiet private discussion for a while. No one noticed when she slipped out of the room back to her ship.

.

Ventress was sitting in the main galley with the hollo-projector showing the two occupied cells below in _Shard's_ hull. The Illothorian was pacing and wringing his hands. The clones were almost still. The veteran sat against the far wall staring at nothing while the other conscious clone tended to his wounded brother.

"Can we leave?" Ventress asked irritably when Ahsoka entered the galley. The former Sith apprentice wasn't comfortable this far into Empire territory and it showed. She hadn't even left the ship since they landed.

"Almost," Ahsoka responded and busied herself making caf. "Jue has arrived with Sayne and the girl's new identity."

"Are you leaving the extra luggage here too?"

"The clones are coming with us."

"Where? You can't keep them prisoner on your ship forever."

"I haven't decided."

"You're pathetic. There's only one solution—and you should have had the guts to figure it out before they came to."

"I won't kill them for what they are," Ahsoka responded, hoping she sounded more assured than she was.

"Then kill them to protect yourself. They're nothing but a danger to all of us. If you can't do it, I will."

Ahsoka spun around to glare at Ventress. "No one is dying on my ship," she snapped, "got it?"

"I'd be doing you a favor," Ventress sneered. "This is the problem with your misguided Jedi code. You're just ignoring the truth—that the world is a dark and merciless place full of selfish people. It explains why the Jedi were so easily whipped out. I'm surprised you're making that same mistake twice."

Ahsoka frowned and gripped the edge of the galley countertop. _Am I making the same mistakes again? Am I letting my emotions blind me because I_ want _the clones to be redeemable? Or am I hesitating to release them because I'm scared and angry?_

"Face it, Tano; Following the Jedi code has gotten you nowhere."

"While following the Sith has taken you so far?" Ahsoka countered. Ventress's smirk dissolved. "You've been fighting for the power to protect the things you loved and to avenge them and what do you have to show for it? We're both on the run, fleeing our homes and betrayed by the people we once lead, regardless of the code we followed."

"At least I'm not weak-willed and defenseless," Ventress hissed.

"At least I'm not alone," Ahsoka shot back. Ventress recoiled from the words and her glower became a snarl of rage. She stood up quickly and turned away from Ahsoka.

"I'm not alone," Ventress growled, "I just have nothing left to loose. You might do well to remember that." She disappeared down the curving hallway. Ahsoka remained standing at the galley staring after the Zabrak, gripping the countertop hard. Her gaze slowly fell to the floor.

 _Ventress is wrong,_ she thought with dawning realization, _it isn't the Jedi Code that led me here—it was turning away from the Code. I let my emotions control me then—I can't make the same mistake now._ She looked up at the clones in the hollo-projection.

 _What would the Jedi say about them?_ She asked herself. _They're living beings, helpless and innocent of any crime against me. They can't help what they are or where they were born. If there is a way to save their lives, the Jedi would say I have to try._

Ahsoka reached for her lightsaber hidden just behind the holster of Rex's DC-17, Negotiator. Her hand paused and fell instead on the grip of the blaster. She had shot clones, gangsters, and stormtroopers with that weapon… It was a tool of war and murder. If she was going to be a Jedi she had to leave behind the war and her anger at Rex. With trembling hands she unbuckled the weapons belt and put the blasters aside.

Ahsoka turned away from them and dug in her pocket for the bit of flimsy Nyreen Vollen had given her. She looked at the word _Kyrimorut_ scribbled at the top and hesitated only a moment before pulling out her comm, flipping on the installed voice modulator, and dialing.

The answer was prompt.

 _"_ _Who is this?"_ a man demanded in a voice rich with a familiar accent. Ahsoka paused for a minute, contemplating her answer.

"You can call me Fulcrum," she said at last. "I was told you would be interested in taking in a few stray clone troopers."

"Who told you that?"

"Nyreen Vollen." There was a long pause on the other end of the line.

"Keep going," the man said cautiously and Ahsoka relaxed a little. She felt a weight, much heavier than the blasters that had swung on her hips, lifting off her shoulders. She turned to the hollo-projector and looked at her captives.

"I have three clones that I can't risk returning to the Empire. She said you could arrange something."

.

The karyai of the Kyrimorut bastion was warm and bustling with activity even long after the dinner had been cleared away, just the way it always was. _It's too loud here,_ Vau thought to himself. He always thought that when he was at Kal's house and missed the quiet until he left. Then inevitably he found himself back in the chair by the fire in the karyai watching Atin's scarred face smiling at Kad as the child passed him some toy or another. Mird sat up from his lounging bundle by Vau's feet and watched Kal approach with baleful eyes.

"So, Walon," Kal said, sitting in the chair beside the old mando and ignoring Mird, "how long are you staying this time? Or are you settling down?"

"Just passing through," Vau said, leaning down to rub Mird's head. The strill relaxed back into his dozing with a low growl.

"Uh huh," Kal said nodding. "Well, Laseema will always have a room for you here. She's quite the homemaker. I don't know how I thought I could run this place without someone like her."

"Neither do I."

Kal grumbled an answer into his tihaar.

"Looks like things have been interesting here," Vau noted. "I haven't seen the old _kamini_ , she still around?" Of all the strange sights at Kyrimorut, the ancient Kaminoan Jedi sitting beside armored Mandalorians was the strangest, and rubbed Vau in all the wrong ways. Even three years after leaving Kamino, Vau wasn't anxious to see any of its native creatures, even one so atypical as Kina Ha.

"Yeah, she's still here." Kal growled angrily.

"You're the one who let her stay. I told you, we'd all be better off if you slotted her."

"She wouldn't agree to the mind wipe, so I couldn't let her leave. If I kill her I can't see Scout being too happy, and she's got Mij in her camp now. It complicated things."

"You seemed happy enough with it before," Vau shrugged.

"That was before she started making _shab'la_ prophecies. You know about the child that came with Etain?"

"The one you recovered from that spook transport?"

"Yeah, that one. He's another _karking_ Force-user. The _aiwa-bait_ was waiting for us when we got back. She took one look at the boy and started spouting Jedi _osik._ "

"Like?"

"What do you care?"

"Much as I hate to admit it, the Jedi tend to be right about this _osik_ in their own twisted way. They are spectacularly good at misunderstanding it though."

"Yeah, if they weren't they'd have seen Jango's plan coming a mile away." Kal muttered and sighed heavily. "She said the kid is the reason she wanted to stay, she knew he'd be coming and she was here to train him. I swear, she starts turning this place into some _haar'chak_ temple I _will_ turn her into _gihal._ "

"Typical of you, Kal. You fool yourself you're a decent man for too long and it bites you in the _shebs_. So, picked up any new stragglers I should know about?"

"Well my daughter's still not talking to Rav's boy, and I think Rav's a bit put out about it."

"Ugh."

"And A'den's got a thing for this shifty-eyed pilot in Pariya. So maybe I lost one and gained one, but on balance it's all the same. What have you been doing with yourself lately?" Kal asked, setting his glass down. "You haven't gone back to work as a mercenary I assume. You certainly don't need creds that badly."

"Sightseeing," Vau deflected. "Going here and there, checking up on old acquaintances, finding out who's still alive…" The last was probably the most apt description. Even sitting as close to the fire as he was, Vau felt cold thinking of the past few months. His eyes wandered to Atin on the other side of the room, urging Kad to toddle back across the rug to Darman's waiting arms. Atin was one of less than 60 survivors of Vau's original 200 Commando trainees. He knew for sure, less than half of those casualties were prior to Order 66. In a little under two years the Empire had sent more of his boys to die than the Republic did in the entire war. _So much for galactic peace,_ Vau thought wryly.

"Must have been a lot of bad news to make you so sullen," Kal said, and snagged a glass off the table that hadn't been cleared away. He whipped it with a napkin before filling it from his tihaar bottle and sliding it to Vau.

"From your cheery disposition, it seems to be going around," Vau said and tipped the glass in a mirthless toast.

"I'm afraid I have more, _buir,_ " a voice interrupted them from behind. Both old men turned to see Jaing striding across the Karyai, pulling off his helmet and shaking out his sweaty, dark hair.

" _Ja'ika,_ " Kal greeted him with a smile, "Ordo said you'd run off with A'den and Bardan for the day." Jaing looked at his boots and frowned, holding his helmet tightly under his left arm out of habit. Kal's smile slipped. "Just come on out with it. Better to pull the bandage off quick, son."

" _Cornucopia_ showed up again," Jaing said flatly. "It was picked up by Imperial Transit late last night on the edge of Catharia Space. We were too late, _buir._ It was gone by the time we got there. Bardan says there was some kind of battle, but the Force wasn't being too specific."

"When is it ever," Vau grumbled.

"That's not the worst part. I wasn't the only one who sliced into the ITA system looking for Ny. I found another virus monitoring the same alerts I was."

"Did they know you found them? Could they have traced you back here?"

"No, _buir,_ they weren't that good. I only found the bug because Cornucopia was removed from the flagged list. It's no longer in the Imperial database, and as far as I can tell, it was removed from inside the Imperial system."

"Can you trace the slicer?"

"I tried. The virus deleted itself before I got the chance. I'm sorry, _buir._ " Jaing put a hand on his father's shoulder gently. Kal just nodded and patted the boy's grey leather glove.

"It's alright, _ad'ika_ ," Kal said with a sigh. "You did the best you could. Thank you."

Jaing squeezed Kal's shoulder then slipped away toward the hallway again, probably to catch up on the sleep he'd missed.

"Your woman missing?" Vau asked.

"Probably not," Kal said, his voice heavy. "Last we knew she wasn't on the ship. _Shab_ , A'den's probably crushed. He's still holding out hope."

"Sounds like you are too," Vau said, his eyes following Kal critically as the shorter man stood stiffly and ran a hand over his face.

"I don't need anymore deaths on my conscience. I shouldn't have let her go."

"It's not your fault," Vau said with a shrug. "Ny made her own choices."

"So I take a bit more responsibility for what happens to the people I care for," Kal snapped, "if it means I get up off my _shebs_ and do something about it, I have no intention of changing." With that he stalked off toward A'den's room with a dark cloud over his bent head.

 _At least he left the bottle,_ Vau thought and reached over for the flask of clear alcohol.

"Poor Kal, always worrying about someone," a kind voice said to Vau's right. He turned to meet the pretty smile of Etain Tur-Mukan. She looked thinner than he'd ever seen her, truly frail not petite. Vau could see her legs shaking to hold her up, and she took Kal's vacated seat quickly.

"I don't suppose I have to tell you to be careful with that," she said, motioning to the glass he was pouring.

"No, ma'am. I have some experience with it. I know my own limits," he said, indulging her. She smirked at him with a spark of amusement in her bright green eyes.

"We didn't know when you'd be coming back, Sergeant, or I'm sure Rav would have made a nicer dinner for you," she said kindly. Vau hid a frown in his drink because Rav hadn't been around since he got back. She had her own place with her four boys farther north.

"I'm sure she would," Vau said as evenly as he could.

"I guess I can't ask you what you were doing that was so important?"

"Just recon."

"Are Delta alright? And Omega?" She asked anxiously.

"The boys are all fine," Vau said, with a feeling something sharp and cold digging into his chest.

"Good. I—I worry."

Vau cleared his throat uncomfortably and asked, "how are you?"

"I've been better, but that's expected right?" She said, giving him a happy but tired smile. "I didn't think childbirth would take it out of me so completely. Even with the Force, I'm weak as a flintgnat."

 _Oh,_ Vau realized, _she doesn't remember the last few years. She thinks the war is still going and Kad has just been born._

"Parja has been a great help, taking care of Kad when I'm too exhausted. He's getting so big so quickly. It seems like only a few days ago he was smaller than my forearm. I swear he'll start walking any day now."

Vau looked over at Kad, toddling about on his chubby feet in the circle of his adoring uncles and Darman in the middle. That certainly wasn't the child Etain was talking about. Looking at her, Vau could almost convince himself that she was back to the woman she used to be. Her face was soft with affection and caring, but she was looking toward the hallway not her husband and son.

If he hadn't seen it, he wouldn't have thought the small, meek-looking child capable of the stubborn strength of will that had carried her through the war. Etain wasn't like Kal or himself, she was compassionate at her core and had to work all the harder to do what needed to be done in the indecent world she lived in. Vau respected her for having the strength to act—even if sometimes she acted foolishly. She fit into the Skirata family well in that regard. It was hard to think that something had broken her so completely she didn't even recognize her own child.

"How is Scorch?" Her question caught him off-guard.

"Scorch?" He asked. _Broken,_ his mind supplied the answer. He hadn't seen Scorch or his squad-mates since before they shipped out for Kashyyyk. He'd only spoken to them over comm after Sev went M.I.A. That was enough to tell him that Scorch would never be the same. Looking into Etain's worried eyes, he didn't know how to explain that. Did she remember Sev? Did she remember trying to go back for him herself?

"I didn't want to leave him on Harugab after what happened. Jusik said he'd make sure they had what they needed, but I think they just need a break, time away from the war—and he can't give them that. The army is pushing those men too hard and too far. Who's to say they won't all break like that before this is over?" She sounded as broken as Scorch. _She's probably thinking about Darman,_ Vau realized. _Does she remember what Darman did to Kal when he found out about Kad?_

"You won't tell Scorch I told you about his break-down, will you? He wouldn't want you to know." She was repeating herself now. Etain had told him the same thing years ago when she called with the news from Harugab. He had clearly never fooled her into thinking he didn't care for his boys. "You know your opinion means everything to them. Sometimes I worry they care more about making you proud than surviving this war."

"That _is_ making me proud," Vau forced himself to say the words he had only thought back then. _Did they know that? Did Sev? Did he do something brash and drastic to achieve his mission because he thought I expected that? Is that why he's dead?_ They were all questions that Vau had asked himself before.

"Tell them that sometime," Etain said kindly. "It would mean a lot for them to know you _are_ proud and that… someone outside of their Squad wants them to survive." _They didn't know,_ Vau now had his answer. _More than half of my boys died not knowing they were the best_ shab'la _thing I ever did in this wretched galaxy._ He knew what that felt like, how painful it was to fail the person that mattered most. There was a time when his father's opinion meant the world to him. The day his father gave him the last brutal beating and banished him, he remembered thinking he'd rather be dead than feel that way. Vau's cold heart burned colder, and he missed what Etain said next.

"I was going to tell Dar about Kad on… on the way… on…" She trailed off into muttering, her brow pulling together and her frown deepening. Her eyes got a far off look, like she was trying to recall something from long ago. Mird sat up and whined lowly.

"Girl?" Vau asked, setting down his glass and turning to Etain with apprehension. Kal had said she wasn't quite right.

"How can I have had… that doesn't… I did tell Dar… or… I thought…"

Little chubby feet slapping against the hardwood approached the fireside. Vau looked up to see Kad waddling over with an anxious expression. He came up to Etain's knobby knees and put his pudgy hands on her leg.

"Mama?" He asked, looking up at her with his large dark eyes. Etain stared down at her son in complete confusion. Vau could see a storm brewing in her eyes the moment before it broke.

"You are not my son," Etain hissed. "No! I am not your mother!" She pushed Kad's hands away from her and the unstable child stumbled. Mird's whine rose to a growl. Etain grabbed her head like it pained her and glared at the child. "Get away from me sith-spawn mutant! You are not my son!" She stood up and screeched at Kad. "Don't you dare touch me! Get away from me! You are nothing!"

Vau jumped up, his elbow knocking his glass over and it shattered on the floor. Without thinking about what he was doing, Vau grabbed Kad off the floor into his armored embrace. The only thought in his mind was putting himself between the child and the screaming woman and blocking out the long buried memories of his childhood threatening to drag him under. He remembered exactly how it felt to cower before his mother's screaming until the woman made herself hoarse and finally could scream no more. He held Kad while the child wailed and sobbed against the plates of hard metal. Vau covered the boy's ears, gritted his teeth and willed his face to become stone.

Around him the _karyai_ erupted into motion. Mird jumped up, growling and snapping at Etain and dashing around Vau's feet. Darman sprinted across the room and put himself between Etain and Vau, his head swinging back and forth between his wife and son. Besany and the little Jedi, Scout, hurried to Etain's side, while Laseema ran for Bardan and Mij. All the while Etain screamed and fought with all her dwindling strength against her husband and the women trying to calm her.

"Give me back my son! Where is Dar? What have you done with him? Mercenaries and kidnappers, slavers! Get your hands off me! Give me my son!"

It seemed like an hour before Bardan came running in wearing loose sleeping clothes, his hair wild. He went straight to Etain and put his fingers on her temples even as she tried to back away from him. A second later, her screams drifted into silence, and she slumped between Scout and Besany. Mij came hurrying in a second later with panicked eyes. He looked from the collapsed woman, to Bardan, to Darman, and then to Vau and Kad. His shock was clear and mirrored by everyone else.

Vau didn't even notice them staring. He was lost in his tortured mind, spinning between memories and imagination. Through it he felt Kad being lifted from his arms and tightened his grip, shaking himself back into the present. Darman looked back at Vau curiously, keeping a hold on his child. The old mercenary looked down at the boy cradled to his chest. _When was the last time I held a child?_ He wondered. _Have I ever?_ He eased his grip and let Kad be lifted away. The child was still crying and sobbing softly. Kad clung to his father's neck with small arms and grasping little fingers.

 _My boys looked like that once,_ Vau thought, watching Darman take Kad out of the room, whispering softly to him. _They were about that size when I first got to Kamino. There were so many of them in little rows of beds, like cages, fields of cages filled with little boys. Did anyone ever hold them? Did anyone ever even pick them up?_ By the time Vau got them to train they were walking, talking, serious little men, the physical equivalent of a five-year-old.

 _And I broke them. I broke them and sent them out to die—didn't even tell them how_ shab'la _proud I was. They were the best of the best because I made them more broken than any others. I made them what my father made me._

 _Shab!_

 _I am my father. I'm every_ shab'la _part of him!_ Vau felt physically sick for a moment at the thought. _I thought beating those boys till they cracked was a kindness… was the_ right _thing to do. I didn't do anything more for them than my father did for me._

 _And they still wanted to please me?_ He gripped the back of the chair he'd been sitting in for support. _They were still waiting for my approval—approval that I never gave to them. I couldn't even give them that? Why?_

 _Who ever did anything for them? Who looked out for them? Who cares about them now?_ The casualty list he had compiled more than answered those questions: No one.

They were just pawns to the Empire, more-so than they had been to the Republic. The Jedi had at least pretended to care about clone lives. The Empire didn't seem to care about anyone's life. They stole Etain's and shoved someone else into her body instead. She was worse than dead. Her identity was destroyed and with it her soul.

 _If the Empire can take it from her, they can take it from my boys too,_ he realized. It was the only thing he could say he had given them; a Mandalorian soul. _What have I done for them if I let that be taken away?_

The only course of action left to him formed slowly in Vau's mind and he straightened up as he planned. His stone face remained impassive while the thoughts coalesced into intentions. Suddenly and without warning, Vau gave a short, piercing whistle and Mird jumped to its feet. Vau didn't even glance at the animal, just stalked out of the _karyai_ with the golden beast nipping at his heels.

.

 _The binders held Rex against the cold metal. The chill crept down his back, through his blood, numbing everything. Even if he was released Rex wasn't sure he could lift his arms or legs. His entire body felt heavy as duracrete and brittle. Each breath was a struggle against the weight that seemed to be set on his chest._

 _He felt a strange sensation on his scalp, like thin cold fingers running through his short hair, bristling it in the wrong directions. He wanted to tell whoever was doing it to stop, but he couldn't find breath to speak. Slowly he raised his eyes. The metal arms hanging from the ceiling gleamed in the white lights of the laboratory. They moved in jerky, sharp spurts. As each moved he felt the alien sensation on his scalp._

 _Rex dropped his eyes to the table at his side. In a gleaming silver basin splattered in red droplets was a pale dome of flesh coated with light blond fuzz. The world spun in Rex's eyes, all centered on the piece of flesh and bone in the dish. He knew, without a doubt, it was his. His lungs strained and fought as he panted in panic. His body felt even heavier and the straps pulled tighter. He kept staring at the top of his own head in the shining dish and the familiar blood fuzz. The manipulator arms poked and prodded at his brain, digging into his head like cold, hard fingers in soft earth. He opened his mouth to scream, but his lungs hardened solid and burned for oxygen._

Rex jerked awake to the feeling of cold metal on his arm. His hand immediately found the small blaster under his pillow and he flipped over to level it at the two points of light in the darkened barracks.

Z9 held up its manipulator arms and backed away quickly with a soft whir of its wheels. Rex's shaking hand holding the blaster didn't drop an inch and his heart pounded against his ribs.

Silently the droid held one manipulator over its main speaker and then pointed at Rex's locker where his armor was stored. It rolled a short ways away and made a 'follow' motion. Rex sat up slowly without lowering the blaster. He kept the weapon leveled until the droid had retreated all the way out of the barracks and the doors had closed behind the machine.

Quickly and quietly, with years of practice, Rex put on his armor.

Z9 was waiting for him in the hallway.

"My mistress wishes to speak with you," it said. "Carry the box and follow me." It pointed to a box on the hallway floor. Rex bent stiffly to pick it up and the droid buzzed off down the hall. He had trouble keeping up with the frantic little wheels of the machine, but it wasn't far to the Doctor's lab. He noticed the night shift weren't at their post when he entered after the droid and scowled. Z9 ushered him through the door across the room, into a smaller office that was no-more inviting. Doctor Orsa was at the large desk, bent over datapads and flimsy printouts. She looked up when Rex entered and her chin puckered.

"You can put that anywhere," she said with a wave, "I don't actually need it." Rex put the box on the edge of the nearest table. Orsa continued to give him the uncomfortable look, her eyes flickering over the visor of his helmet. Rex popped the seal and pulled off his bucket, breathing in the antiseptic and acrid smell of the lab.

"Helmets still bother you," he stated, meeting her eyes. She frowned deeper and looked down at her work.

"It's not the helmet," she said. She pushed the datapadd aside and sat back in her chair. "So, now that you've seen what I do, what do you think?" She asked him.

"I don't understand it," Rex said flatly. _But i_ _t scares the_ osik _out of me,_ he thought.

"I'm sorry," she said shaking her head, "I forget you're not accustomed to all the science and subterfuge."

"I'm a soldier," Rex agreed, standing a little straighter.

"No," Orsa said heavily, "you're just one small part of a large, biological weapon of targeted mass-destruction."

"A soldier of the clone army," Rex translated.

"I know you've put it together," she said looking over his shoulder, unable to meet his eyes. "It's not hard to see; The Clone Army was created to destroy the Jedi."

"You mean to protect the Republic _from_ the Jedi," Rex corrected her.

Orsa laughed humorlessly and said to herself, "I am a clever girl, aren't I?"

The droid piped up, "Statistically your intelligence is ranked in the 99th percentile of the human population, by definition you are a genius, mistress."

"Thank you, ZeeNine," the doctor said exhaustedly, putting her head in her hands. She looked up a moment later and asked Rex, "What makes you believe you were created to protect the Republic?" She asked him.

"Because the Jedi were corrupt and greedy. They no-longer served the best interest of the Republic and its citizens."

"How do you _know_ that? What have _you_ experienced to convince you of that?"

"General Pong Krell," Rex said without hesitation. "He was a Jedi General who sabotaged the Republic war effort on Umbara through misinformation and poor tactics to gain favor with the Separatists."

"Yes," Orsa nodded, "that was a terrible thing and an embarrassing failure of the Jedi Order that they were unaware of Krell's disloyalty. But not all the Jedi were like him, where they?"

"Every group has outliers."

"So was Krell an outlier or part of a trend?" She asked and before he could answer she pushed on. "What did your general, Anakin Skywalker, think of Krell? Or Ahsoka Tano, what did she think?"

Rex had to dig in his memory for the answers. _I told Commander Tano the whole story once,_ he thought. He could vaguely recall sitting beside her on the dimly lit observation deck and the words pouring out of him. She still had burns on her neck and lekku from the zygarian shock-collar. He remembered being so bruised it hurt to wear his armor but needing the comfort of its protection after the terrifying ordeal of Kadavo. There was a small crease of concentration in the center of her brow between the markings over her eyes as she listed to him and repeated the unfamiliar language, a soft look of sadness on her face.

Rex took a deep breath, feeling his eyes growing overfull. _How could I have forgotten that?_ He asked himself in horror. _How could I forget how much she cared?_

Tahmina Orsa was still looking at him expectantly with her off-colored eyes.

"You remembered something you had forgotten, didn't you," she prompted him.

"I already know I can't trust my memory," Rex replied, his shaking voice betraying him. Orsa looked surprised, so he explained. "I spoke with someone who used to know me. I'm convinced the person she remembers isn't the man I am today."

"I'm…impressed," the Doctor said, sitting back. "It takes a lot of mental flexibility to consider and accept your mind's fallibility."

"I'm not sure I understand," Rex said.

"Memories and emotions are chemicals stored in your brain and, like data in a computer, that stored information can later be changed. Everything you feel is a chemical response in reaction to some kind of stimuli—be it external, like pain or pleasure, or internal, like regret and longing.

"Years ago my father and I were researching bio-synthetic structures that could selectively alter chemical responses. We hoped the results would help cure mental illnesses; paranoia, phobias, even mental-trauma.

"Theoretically, our research showed that the same structures could be used to alter personalities and control thought processes."

"Like conditioning," Rex said.

"Yes," Orsa nodded, "but even more radical and effective. The bio-synthetic structures could rewrite the emotions associated with memories, rewriting a person's history and their development—even change their most deeply held beliefs."

"Wouldn't the person know what was happening to them if their memories suddenly changed?" He asked.

Orsa laughed and looked at him pityingly. "Did you?"

Rex felt a shiver travel down his spine. He tried to deny what he already knew was the truth while Orsa kept talking like a woman possessed.

"The human brain is amazingly resilient and adaptable. It can reconcile vast inconsistencies in real time. The brain will alter conflicting memories or conceal them, and fill the gaps with completely imagined memories. The bio-chips we created relied on that because they could never be more than a blunt tool.

"They work off existing emotions; love, loyalty, fear, anger... It was almost laughably easy to design them for clones. Genetically, they are identical. Loyalty is both engineered and conditioned into them. The chip I developed for Palpatine does little more than intensify that feeling to insure obedience. It was a simple mater to trigger the effects with a phrase: 'Execute Order 66'. It was built into the earliest stages of flash-leaning. The clones wouldn't even remember it."

"But when did they put it in?" Rex demanded, cutting her off.

"What?"

"This… _chip_ , when was it put in my head? I don't understand how they could put one in every clone without us noticing."

Doctor Orsa just stared at him dumbly for a long moment. "It's always been there, from the early stages of development in the cloning cylinders. You've had it all your life."

Rex felt like his stomach was filled with ice as the knowledge washed over him. He could see it clearly; the clone army was a single living entity, the host of a parasite with one singular cause.

"Fives was right, about all of it," he said to himself.

"CT-5555," Orsa said, "yes. The Emperor, the Chancellor then, came to me about him when news of the possible compromise to the secrecy of the plan reached Coruscant. He wanted to know how much Fives could have learned about the purpose of the chips."

"Five was smart—too smart. He figured out the whole thing. I just didn't listen," Rex said and slumped against the nearest table.

"The Chancellor had Nala Se drug Fives, then framed him for a fictitious attack. If Fives had cooperated with the Kaminoans his mind would have been whipped, regardless. He was too close to discovering the plan—he shouldn't have been on Kamino at all."

"Fives died because he knew the truth. He was only there because I let him go." _I'm the reason Fives is dead,_ He finished silently. Rex had known that on some level for a long time, but hearing it confirmed weighed heavy on his shoulders. "And Tup?"

"Tup?... Oh, CT-5385. He was the one in one million whose chip mutated enough that the subject's… um, Tup's… immune system began attacking it. The deteriorating chip poisoned his cranial fluid and causing fatal neurological degeneration."

"Umm…"

"Brain death."

"And Coric? CT-3011—"

"Yes, I… I know who he was." Orsa sighed heavily. "I knew you would ask about him. He was one of your closest brothers after all."

"You expect me to believe that these things in our heads turned him into a child-killer?"

"Like most clones, he was loyal to the army and his brothers. The chip just made his loyalty a stronger motivation than his morals to protect the lives of others. I've seen similar behaviors in other subjects in the lab."

" _People_ —you've seen it in other _people_!"

"Yes." Orsa agreed mater-of-factly without acknowledging the difference. "When the chip causes a major internal conflict of morals or decisions it can have physical side effects. The chip will continuously try to exert its control while the existing memories contradict and confuse the subject. The result is an inability to make decisions, form clear opinions and memories. If the subject does not accept the chips influence, eventually the mental fatigue causes delirium, psychosis, stroke, coma, and-or death."

"It drove Coric insane."

"To put it simply."

"Simply?" Rex growled, standing up and balling his fists. "To _put it simply_ he fried his own brain and your _shab'la_ chip with a bolt of hot plasma traveling three hundred and forty meters per second." Orsa stared back into his furious glare with only mild shock. Rex forced himself to turn away from her and breath deeply. It took him a few moments to calm down.

"What about me?" he asked softly. "Your chip made me betray someone I once protected. How come I haven't gone crazy?"

"More than any other clone I have ever studied, your loyalties appear to be split and your sense of self, independent from your brothers, is stronger than other clones. The chip latched onto the trauma from your experiences on Umbara and tried to reconcile that view of the Jedi with your memories. It only half succeeded. Ultimately it was your injury that saved your mind and your life."

"Huh?" Rex turned to give her a doubtful look.

"You have been medicating the pain from your injury," she explained. "The chip's effectiveness is inhibited by alcohol and certain anesthetics. Your drug habits are your coping mechanism."

"Then what about Fox? The Empire he is supposed to be serving killed his closest brother and is putting his family at risk."

"Yes, I believe he is beginning to feel the effects," Orsa reached up to her neck where Fox had likely left bruises from their last meeting.

"How long till he loses it for good?" Rex asked.

"It's impossible to say. It could be today, it could be in a decade."

" _Shab,_ " Rex hissed and ran a hand over the back of his head. He paced a short ways across her office. _If Fox loses it where the wrong person can hear we could both be dead,_ he thought. _How dangerous is he and how do I know when he starts losing his mind?_ Rex thought of Nia Kahn drifting off in the middle of making caf and pressing her lips to his cheek. He spun around to face the Doctor again.

"These chips, you don't just put them in clones."

"No. You saw that today."

"Who else have you put them in?"

"Spies, criminals, traitors, a few government officials," She looked down at her hands, folded on the desk. "Mostly I implant chips for interrogation, but the Emperor has discovered they have other more… destructive uses. His capacity to twist my work never fails to disturb me."

"You said they could change someone's personality, make them… someone else."

"You're thinking of Etain Tur-Mukahn," Orsa said with a look of realization. "I'm surprised you recognized it for what it was. Yes, I put a bio-chip in Tur-Muhkan's brain a few days after Order 66 was issued."

"Like the one in my brothers and I?" Rex asked.

"No, a more aggressive one. For the past few years Palpatine has had me researching targeted memory suppression. Clone bio-chips alter memory interpretation and the mind alters the long-term memories. Tur-Mukahn's chip suppressed large sections of her declarative memory. Parts of her original personality remained of course; the chip can only block off so much of the subject's temporal lobe without adverse effects."

"But those memories could come back," Rex said. _I've seen them come back._

"Yes, that is what my research shows. I've begun developing chips that eradicate memories by regeneration of the brain cells—effectively whipping out the subjects ability to form or retain long-term memories. As opposed to simply discouraging the brain from examining the undesired sections of memory."

"What is that good for?" Rex asked in confusion. "A person with no memory is basically a droid."

"Exactly," Orsa said bitterly. "The Emperor finds uses, even for my failures. He discovered that a human with no memory is a docile slave, or an unwitting plague carrier, or a suicide bomber, or a living—"

"Bomber?" Rex interrupted her. "Are you saying you've done that? You put a chip in someone's head that whipped out their memories, then you strapped them with explosives and sent them to kill and die?"

"I just implanted the chips," Orsa said, looking firmly at her hands.

"Nasis, Conall Nasis, is that what happened to him?"

"Neither you or IT-1010 will be revealed because of his capture," she said softly and looked to the side, away from him, "I made sure of that."

" _Shab!_ " Rex growled and ran both hands over his scalp in frustration. " _Shabi an!"_ He turned around and began pacing again. _It_ was _our fault then,_ he thought, _my fault. Nasis was caught helping us and Orsa killed him to hide our involvement. If the Emperor knew she cooperated with her kidnappers they'd kill her mother; she had no choice but to kill him. No more! I can't let anyone else die because of this! It has to end._

 _But so long as this chip is in my brain it will never be over,_ he realized.

"Can you remove it?" Rex stopped his pacing.

"The chips can be removed like any tumor, the way CT-5555 removed his," Orsa said nodding, "or it can be dissolved with a viral injection that attacks synthetic proteins in the chip."

"Can you remove mine?" He demanded, his heart racing.

"Not as long as you are here. It would be obvious if you removed it surgically, and I can't obtain the necessary supplies or equipment to fabricate the viral cure."

Rex's heart sank and he gritted his teeth.

"Then tell me how to fight it."

"That's more complicated than it sounds," Orsa told him softly, almost gently. "The chip latches onto the things you feel moral obligations to and intensifies that emotion. Your loyalties are at odds. Since you can't prevent the chip from affecting your mind, you have to align your loyalties so the chip re-affirms the person you are naturally."

"How do I do that when I don't remember who that person was?"

Orsa just gave him a pained look.

"Get some sleep, Private," she said at length and pulled her work back into the center of her desk. "There's nothing more you can do tonight." She bent her head over the data pads, the mass of frizzy black hair obscuring her face.

Rex left her office with slow shuffling steps. He paused to look around the dimly lit lab beyond. The row of cloning cylinders was dark, and the straps of the gurney hung off the sides. Every surface was whipped down and the room smelled overpoweringly of antiseptics without his helmet filters. Rex shuddered and hurried out of the nightmarish scene.

 _I have to warn Fox,_ he thought on his way back to his bunk. _He needs to know what's happening to him. Maybe if Coric had known, he would have understood it wasn't his fault and maybe…_

 _I have to tell Darman what's happening to Etain. How do I contact them, short of tracking them down on Mandalore myself? Is she even still alive? From what Orsa said about conflicting memories the chances aren't good. What did I send back to him?_ Rex asked himself in horror, thinking of the pain in Darman's voice when he spoke of Etain. _I sent him his wife back from the dead, only so he could watch her die again. How can I face him after that? How could he thank me for that?_

 _No,_ he convinced himself, _I can't go to Kyrimorut, not now at least. I still need Orsa. I have to stay._

 _Is that me thinking,_ another part of his mind wondered, _or the chip?_

Rex shed his armor and rolled under the blankets, his mind spinning with everything Orsa had told him. He asked himself a million 'what if' questions until his head hurt. Every time he drifted toward sleep he remembered the man strapped to Orsa's gurney with a hole in his head and jerked awake, holding down bile. He barely shut his eyes all night. He wasn't sure he'd ever be able to sleep again with the gnawing fear of his own mind.

.

Author's Note: _Now_ things are moving. Next chapter: Vau gives Delta Squad the option to defect. -Em


End file.
